Disparity by Design
by Whedonist
Summary: 8th in the Nikki & Nora A.U. that's been built.
1. Broken Bootstraps

**Rating:** PG-13 to NC-17 – some parts are more risqué, some have serious language and deal with mature themes and adult concepts like violence, offensive language and naughtiness.

**Disclaimer:** I'm sure I've covered this in the previous 7 stories I've written in this fandom, but to cover my bases, I'll repeat myself – Not mine. I'm playing with someone else's toys, Nancylee Myatt and others actually. All for fun and if money is being made off what I'm writing, someone should let me know.

**Author's Note:** The penultimate story in my A.U. Fact is, I'm trying to figure just how far I'm taking the last story in this series. This follows The Why Don't You and I Series, The Game Series and Roll Away Your Stone and Heavy Lies the Crown, picking up a few months after Nikki & Nora come out at work. Please feel read and enjoy. Thank you!

* * *

**Ch. 1 – Broken Bootstraps**

"So, why are we taking this case?" I grump as I shut Frankie's door. "It's our day off, Nik. The only day we've had this whole month. It's not like I don't love my job, but a day off might be nice."

Her reply is an eye roll and waning patience, "Dan didn't really give me much, Nor. I'm just following orders like you. Now, can we please get this over with?"

Nikki pinches the bridge of her nose with one hand and motions me to lead with the other. Taking her demand, I head towards the bank's front doors and feel her tug at the back hem of my t-shirt. We flash our badges at the uniform taking point at the entrance before stepping inside.

It's a bank. I've been in a few. This one isn't that special. In fact, I think the same layout was given to its other branch off Desaix. Teller windows are off to the left, several offices off to the right and directly in front of the waiting area is a secure entrance to the tellers' stations and the vaults. Standard layout, I would think, for most banks.

The emergency response units already cleared most of the witnesses and the two bodies that the perps left behind. The only indications that blood was spilt here are the marks on the floor representing position and the pooled blood waiting to be cleaned.

We'll have to rely on the Uni's doing their job and taking thorough statements. That should be interesting when we get their write ups.

I feel a tug on my sleeve and turn to Nikki who is pointing towards the small sitting area in front of the offices. A rotund, red faced man in a suit that looks about as crisp as a dollar bill fresh from the washing machine sits in one of the chairs talking to another woman in a pressed pants suit.

Techs buzz about while we head over to the two.

"Hello," Nikki takes the introduction, "I'm Det. Beaumont and this is my partner, Det. Delaney." She holds her hand out and the woman takes it first.

"Barbara Weeks, Vice President of Public Relations," the woman with shoulder length blonde hair and murky brown eyes steps up. "This is our branch manager, Dean Chambers." Nikki shakes his hand next and I stand off to the left of my partner more than content to let her handle this.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both, even under the circumstances. Det. Delaney and I will be taking over the investigation," Nikki produces two of her cards and hands one each to the two standing in front of us. "If you have any questions, please feel free to contact us."

Mrs. Weeks nods and asks, "What would you two like to do to start?"

"We'll need to secure surveillance footage and then if Mr. Chambers can walk us through what happened, we can go from there," I finally speak up. "I'll be more than happy to grab the footage and you can take Det. Beaumont on a walk through."

"Of course, detective," Weeks agrees and motions me to follow her. "I'll show where you can find everything. Dean, I'll be back shortly."

Nikki's chin dips as I turn and follow Mrs. Weeks. She leads me through the doors that grant us access to the teller areas and the back of the business while explaining to me the security measures they have in place, "Our firm's security is handled by ADT. The majority of our branches security systems are housed offsite at ADT's local facility."

I scan the areas that we pass through. The teller section is in complete disarray, there are three doors that are closed off to my right and two that are open to my left. We stop short of the vault entrance and I notice a very familiar shiny, brown balled head.

Benton turns away from the dusting he was doing on a shelving unit of the vault and I catch his eyes. "Delaney, well, look at you."

Mrs. Weeks stops short and I hold a finger up asking for a moment as I walk over to the forensic analyst. "Faunce, it's good to see you out of the lab. Where's the interns?" I wonder because usually the ones not being paid are responsible for the grunt work.

He grins. "Don't have any available right now. You're stuck with me. Where's that partner of yours?"

I wink at him. Over the past few months, Nikki and I have tiptoed out of the closet and it hasn't been as horrible as I thought it was going to be. There have been moments, but it's usually overshadowed by shrugs of indifference or the full on support by the good people of our profession.

Benton Faunce is certainly one of the good ones. Although, Nikki insists that he was heartbroken when she broke the news to him. He had asked around about me and wanted to know if I was seeing anyone. Nikki took the bull by the horns there and let him know, much to Charlie's delight that she was my partner in more ways than one.

"Talking to the bank manager. We'll be around in a bit and you can tell us what you've got?" I ask, stuffing my hands in my jeans pockets.

"Sure thing, Nora." He turns and goes back to dusting.

I go back to Mrs. Weeks. "Now, as I was saying, while ADT has most of our security footage housed off site. We have a small feed on a DVR that holds twenty-four hours of footage before it's digitally transferred to ADT's servers." She swipes a card over a panel next to a small door and motions me through. "Everything that you'll need for today can be found here." She hands me a card and explains, "There are logins and passwords for you. Do you have a card that I can pass along to ADT if you should need additional information from them?"

"Of course," I reach in my back pocket and pull the few I stuffed in there on the way over.

She plucks the card from between my fingers, smiling. "If you need anything, they'll be more than helpful. The login information on the back of the card will get you to the system's folders. From there the navigation is fairly simple. Folders will tell you which camera you will be viewing."

"Can we copy the files?" I ask settling into the lone desk's chair and tap the space bar. The system whirs to life and a login box pops up on the screen.

"Yes. The drawer off to your right should have what you need for that," she answers motioning towards a small line of drawers in the metal desk.

I look her way and take in the lines of her face. "I think I'm good. I'm sure Det. Beaumont will have some questions for you if you'd like." I lick my lips and encourage her to leave a little more, "More than likely I'll see the shootings, I don't recommend it for the average viewer."

Her shoulders slump a little and she nods. "Thank you. You won't need any swipe cards to get out, but I'll leave you my badge in case you need to move around back here." She lays a thick, white, plastic card on the left edge of the desk and leaves.

I don't particularly envy her position right now, an unaccounted for amount of cash missing and two dead bodies does not make for good publicity.

* * *

"Delaney," Benny ribs me from behind, "order or get out of the way."

"Yeah," Dom chimes in from behind his partner, "hell, woman, my grams is slow, but she's ninety-four. What's your excuse?"

My teeth grind.

Whipping around, my sock to Benny's shoulder is pulled at the last second, but it's still heavy enough to knock him into Dominic. Twin grunts and whimpers are offered in response.

It's almost enough to pull a smile from me.

Almost.

I turn back to the wide eyed cashier and place the order, "Two cobb salads, no cheese, a hot dog with ketchup and onions, a bottle of water and medium drink."

As I order, I hear, "The hell Beaumont? Who pissed in your partner's Wheaties this morning?"

I hand the woman working the register my debit card and Nikki answers, "Just that time of the month, fellas."

Not even bothering to turn around, I jab my pin into the key pad being held my way and remind my girlfriend, "I wouldn't throw those stones, baby. Glass can cut."

The huff I hear is enough of a response from her.

Really, it wouldn't be this bad.

The cashier hands me my receipt, bottle of water and cup. The card goes to my back pocket and I head to the soda machine.

I mean I wouldn't be nearly as annoyed if Nikki would cut the passive aggressive bullshit and tell me what I did to piss her off. She's been short and uncommunicative all damn day.

The cardboard cup depresses as I jam it against the lever for ice. The cubes tumble down and fill it up. I tune out the three behind me and decide on what to drink. It's the eternal question, Diet Coke or Cherry Coke. I love Cherry Coke, but my jeans aren't as loose as they were last month and with Thanksgiving and Christmas coming up…

I blow my fallen bangs out of my eyes and decide that if I'm in for a penny, I'm in for a pound. The cup goes under the Cherry Coke spout and I watch the syrup and carbonated water swirl and fizz, the only grin I've managed today spreading across my lips at it bubbles up.

Nikki seems fine and dandy with her coworkers. So it's not her overall mood.

It's me.

I stop the liquid just below the rim of the cup and head towards the table Nikki's sitting at. Dom's sitting across from her. Nikki pats the hard plastic bench next to her and gives me a smile. My eyebrow quirks, but I take it and hand over her bottle of water before I slide into place next to her.

"So, do you two know why Harney tagged you on your day off?" Dominic asks when Benny slides two trays on to the table. One holds my order and the other theirs. Two double burgers and an order of fries so large they stuffed the order into a large drink cup.

"Nope," I answer and separate out the food, giving Nikki hers and taking my hot dog and salad.

"What about you two?" Nikki asks and hands me off a few napkins and the tomatoes from her salad. "And when did you start eating meat?"

Benny's eyebrows wiggle. "Veggie patties."

"You didn't?" Dom's burger stops half way to his lips.

His partner pops a French fry into his mouth and smirks. "You put so much damn mustard and Tabasco on your food, does it matter what kind of meat you're eating?"

"Oh for fuck's sake, Armstrong, if you're gonna pop off on some bullshit rant about eating sen…scene…" Dom falters at the word.

I help him out, "Sentient."

He jabs a finger at me, "Not helping, Delaney, but yeah, sentient animals, I'm gonna put in for a change of partner."

Benny just smiles around his bite of sandwich. "I've been doing it for the past few months, Dominic."

"I don't give a shit. Look here, you tree hugging, piece of queer bait. I'd eat your ass if it was legal," Dominic spits, but takes a bite of his burger anyhow.

Benny just snorts, but it's Nikki who pipes up, "While usually such language would have me giving you an earful, I can't help but think that was more of a Freudian slip than an attack on your partner's lifestyle."

"Wha…?" Dom manages around a mouthful of food before he reddens.

I snicker. Benny pinches his cheek and coos, "Anytime you wanna eat my ass, Dom, baby, you just let me know. I love getting my old salad tossed."

"You three make me fuckin' sick," Barrett snips. "The double we got in the financial district isn't going anywhere. I've got steaks in the freezer that are warmer than any of the leads we have to work."

"Yeah, we've got a bunch of Mizaru, Kikazaru, Iwazaru all over the damn place," Benny gives a grump of his own.

"Ah, who?" Nikki asks before I have a chance to.

"Ya know, the three wise monkeys?" Benny supplies and furthers his explanation at three confused looks, "See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil. Their names are Mizaru, Kikazaru, Iwazaru. Based on the old Japanese proverb and furthered along by the great philosopher Confucius."

"See this is the shit I'm talking about, Armstrong." Dom shakes his head. "It's bad enough that when me and Rosie come to visit we gotta take off our shoes, but we also gotta deal with those weird smells from your altar."

"Ah, my young samaneras, I will teach you the path yet." Benny takes all of it in stride.

I mean for all the shit Dom tosses his way for being Buddhist, Benny takes it all with a smile.

I think it gets to Dom more that way.

* * *

I pass over the tissues and try again, "Ms. Torrain, what was the first thing you noticed about the assailants?"

She sniffles, her eyes red rimmed, her face blotchy and I haven't been able to get her to form a single cohesive sentence since Nikki and I sat down with her forty-five minutes ago.

Benny said that we should join him at his meditation center sometime this week. He said it'd help with the whole patience thing that he knows I lack.

While I don't see myself going 'ohm' for extended periods of time, patience with this woman right now would be amazing.

"Well," she sniffles and I feel Nikki brush my arm, preventing the half-formed sigh from escaping, "It just happened so fast."

"What about any markings?" Nikki asks patting the girl's arm, "Anything you can think of would help us out?"

"I want to help," she says, her brown eyes filling up with tears again, "It's just so hard."

I shoot Nikki a look and try myself, "What about after they came around the back side of the teller station? One stayed out on the main floor the other one, looked a little bigger from the security feed. Did you notice anything then?"

She looks up, not really at the ceiling, but searching her memory for anything to help us. I appreciate that. "It was so quick. Their direction was short. They didn't talk much and we couldn't see their faces. They were covered by this black material."

"Okay," Nikki says and looks at me. I nod and slip a card with my contact information into her hand. "My number is on the back. Det. Delaney's is on the front. If you can think of anything else you give us a call."

Gayle Torrain nods as we say our goodbyes and make our way out to Frankie. I'd bother with my sunglasses if the sun was out at all. The clouds aren't cooperating today though. They haven't been much all week.

The sky is gray. The clouds floating in it are a hue off; otherwise they're a perfect match. I slam Frankie's door, slip the keys in the ignition, but hold off on turning it over. Nikki's door closes and I watch her rest her head on the back of the seat, stretching her neck.

The wince does not go unnoticed. I reach out, threading my fingers through her hair at the nape of her neck and apply a little bit of pressure there to help ease the tension.

"It's not going to help, Nora, but thanks for trying," she says her eyes still closed, her neck still arched back.

"I know, but…" I trail off and worry my lower lip.

"There's an element to this case that makes me think of the robberies Georgia and I were working in August," she cuts off the words on the tip of my tongue.

I'm kind of thankful. I'm sure my pressing her for telling me what's wrong would only annoy her more.

I've learned.

When she gets like this, less is always more and silence is golden.

"There are definite changes, two assailants instead of three and the dead hostages, but…" she trails off and sucks her teeth. "The precision is the same, the outfits."

"There wasn't anything on the tapes that caused the second robber to open fire," I fill in.

"But they did," she fills in.

"We'll take a closer look at the tapes, maybe we missed something on the few views we had." I withdraw my hand. It's best to get a move on. Torrain lived out of the way and if we don't hustle, I'm going to be sitting in some ugly traffic with a cranky partner.

"What happened with the robberies?" I ask a few minutes later, making our way across town.

A look out of the corner of my eye sees Nikki slide over the leather bench seat. I raise my right arm and she snuggles against me resting her head in the crook of my arm. "Luke ran some info for us. Looking at robberies with similar M.O.'s, but what he pulled was too much and we didn't have time to chase anything down. With you out, and the cases we were working, Dan told us to back burner the whole investigation."

She yawns then continues, "We agreed because they were precise. No one was hurt. The amount of money taken was a bit. I think the total put it somewhere around seven-point-four million, but the banks were just as encouraging to let it go."

"Hmm," is all I say to encourage her to continue.

"I know our department's not horribly understaffed…"

I snicker. "Yeah, 'cause our lack of a day off since the end of October says that we've just the right amount of people for our department."

That bit of sarcasm earns me a swat to my thigh, but she doesn't disagree. "Well, when I had lunch with Ron last week, he was telling me that his budgets are being cut. The Brass is asking him to do less with more. I think it's just goin' around."

"So we're stuck busting our ass while the office dwellers get to line their pockets," I grouse, changing lanes to take the off ramp towards the station.

"Now, now, my plebian princess, we members of the bourgeoisie do more than just line our pockets and make merry from the sweat of those beneath us." She reaches up and tweaks my nose. "When we get home remind me and I'll show you the budgets I've been helping my daddy with. It's comin' in at the state level."

"Fine, fine. So," I pause not sure if I really want to do this. It can only make the rest of the day unbearable instead of highly annoying so… "You wanna tell me what's wrong?"

She stiffens under me, her head pops up and her answer is delayed. It takes a half a minute before I hear her speak, "Guess I was just looking forward to a day off."

"Is that why you've been less than talkative since we left this morning?" I ask before I have to think about what I've done.

Nikki pulls away from me and moves back to her side of the car. "'Cause you traipsing around the house, slamming the bathroom door was called for after I got off the phone with Dan?" Her eyes narrow and I know she's expecting an answer.

I'm a little shocked.

That's what this is about?

"Ohh-kay," I sigh and try to salvage this, whatever it is, "Nik, I'm sorry about that, but really, it was unintentional. I didn't think that I pulled that hard." I try giving her a smile and stop at her look.

Right.

I suck in my lips and bite down.

"Maybe I…" I start.

"Look, we're both tired. I'm working on a three day old headache. Just save it, please," Nikki interrupts me.

My mouth clamps shut as my tongue gets planted in my cheek. The steering wheel squeaks under my grip. "Whatever."


	2. Imperfect Cadence

**Ch. 2 – Imperfect Cadence**

The squad room is only half full this morning. Uniforms mill about while two-thirds of Dan's detectives settle against mine and Nora's desks.

Nora's on the other side of Dom, so I lean forward to take in her profile. Her jaw line is taught, corded muscle under smooth skin. She isn't giving her bottom lip much of a break. I've seen her chew steak less aggressively.

A twinge of guilt forms low in the center of my chest. I know I'm partly to blame. We haven't been on the same page lately.

More like reading from two different scripts and missing most of our marks.

We spat.

We give each other silence.

I'm not sure…

No, I am. Our last day off was Halloween. We stayed in, turned off our phones and fell asleep on the couch watching movies.

Now, three weeks later, we haven't had any time to just…

Be.

We'd have a scheduled day off and then something would happen and we'd get called in. The first time, Dom had a sudden court appearance. The second was Georgia, she ended up tumbling down a flight of steps chasing after a sixteen year old 'banger who thought it'd be fun to light his eighty-seven year old, wheelchair bound granny on fire and push her off a highway overpass in the middle of the night.

Now, Dan calls us in and Jesse and Georgia are nowhere to be found. This can't be good.

I go back to resting against the edge of my desk and wait. I follow Dan's narrowed eyes to a four year uni, Steve Maxwell, leaning back in his chair on the phone. Maxwell's pretty long winded.

We may get out of here before the holidays.

The poor kid finally looks up and notices half the squad staring him down. Righting himself, he ends the call.

At lease he's smarter than he looks. He offers us a half smile, half shrug by way of apology.

Dan waves him off and gets this thing underway, "Good morning, team…"

It's not that I hate these "meetings"…

Okay, that's a lie, I hate them.

I hated them when I was in uniform, I hated them when I went to plain clothes and was partnered with Ron. I hated them after I made detective and went to Narcotics. The upside to S.C.U. was that we didn't have these things. It's a small unit of detectives that as a rule wasn't subjected to the mundane, mind-numbing jocularity these meetings tend to breed. Way too much posturing and chest banging when the assignments come down the line.

Our plate is full enough. It could even be argued that our cup runneth over.

Why Dan caved and drunk the 'inclusion in pointless meetings' Kool-Aid, I'll never figure out. I think it may have been egged on when he thought it was also a stellar idea to rotate the partnering assignments between the six of us.

Neither idea will get him a feather in his cap.

I've seen better ideas in fortune cookies.

At least the rotating partners' debacle ended when Nora and I came out.

Honestly, I think that's the only reason Georgia and Jesse were okay with it. Nora helped us there though. She handled everything that night at Phantoms better than I thought possible.

Hell, Georgia even seems slightly relieved.

Jesse just smirked when Nora's impromptu serenade ended and we got back to the table, mumbling something about poor Dan.

I think that our breaking the cardinal rule in partnerships to work out as well it has is probably a stroke of pure dumb luck or God's working on getting things evened out and decided to throw my partner a bone.

Of course, Jen and Kostazics busted their collective asses on making a case for us. Jen's idea to approach that meeting from a performance angle instead of me just up and quitting was a stroke of genius.

"Beaumont," Dom nudges me with his elbow.

My eyes snap his way and his eyes flick to Dan.

"Are we not keeping you entertained enough, detective?" Dan snaps while most of the rest of the squad room looks my way.

I would be six-feet under if Dan's look was anything to go by.

"Not at all," I smile sweetly and wiggle my fingers in a mock wave. The motion earns me twin snickers from my right. I keep my face neutral.

Our intrepid leader sucks his teeth, plants his hands on his hips and says, "Well, then please free to entertain us for a change and update us on what you and Det. Delaney have been working on."

"Yesterday we were pulled into a robbery/homicide at First Union National Bank. We're following up today with two more witnesses, running down forensics as well – so status: In Progress, Lieu. There's the rape/homicide we pulled early Sunday morning. Nora's liking the "best-friend,"" I actually unfold my arms from across my chest and air quote 'best-friend'. Holly Noyola is about as deserving of that title as I am of jubilant. "She isn't very forthcoming; I think we'll be paying her a visit sometime today. I have court tomorrow and we have two parole hearings at the end of this week and one on Monday morning," I finish up, trying to remember if there was anything else that we need to do.

"You forgot," Nora speaks up, "the write ups on Gottesman, our meet with Williams and requals on our firearms by the twenty-third." She stops, laces her hands atop her head and cocks her head to the side before snarking, "Oh, and the six days of time off that we need to catch up on for this month."

Off to Nora's right, Benny high fives her – I think of the blended tone of her rundown rife with sarcasm, annoyance and exhaustion.

Dan just chuffs, kind of similar to what Mister does when he's annoyed with us, and looks to Benny, "What about you and Barrett?"

Our coworker smacks his lips together and pops the gum in his mouth before giving the room an answer, "We aren't having near as much fun. You passed us the Keaton street break ins. Dom's got a C.I. snooping around. We aren't scheduled for court for two weeks. The double in the financial is ice. The hoarder case we – we like the daughter. We're paying a visit to the peach of a woman today to see if we can shake anything loose. In the meantime, Dom wants to blow a hole through her flimsy ass alibi."

"Oh," Dom grins next to me, "And our six days of off time we need to catch up on too. Also, my wife wants to know if I do get to go over to the house sometime this week, will you let me stay the whole night or do I have to come back home?"

Dan pinches the bridge of his nose, resting his chin on his chest while he directs, "The officers not leaning against a desk and in a uniform are free to get a move on. The four remaining, stay." The uniforms scatter like leaves in a gust a wind. Once the sound of scurrying footsteps die down, Dan looks back. "Look, ladies, I know it's been a helluva month…"

"Who you calling a lady?" Benny interrupts.

"Yeah, I don't think I like that," Dom slips in.

"It offends my penis. Dan, apologize to the little guy. He's sensitive. He ain't been used in a minute. Questioning his existence is just plain mean," Benny says right after.

"That's 'cause you ain't used it," Nora gets her two cents in. "If you need to Ben, I can get you a working girl to show you the ropes."

"Ah, that's sweet, Delaney, we get you one too?" Benny asks.

"Uh, not in this lifetime," I cut in. "Unless I get to watch. You in Dom?"

Dom scratches the two day old stubble on his chin. "I could only watch, but hell, seeing two pretty ladies together is the stuff porno's made of. Did I tell you Rosalie bought one, Julia Does Julie? Julia had like half inch long nails. Is that shit kosher?"

I shake my head emphatically. "Long nails and soft flesh don't…"

"Enough," Dan growls in front of us. "If you four would shut up for a few minutes, I'd be able to explain that Jesse and Georgia are going to be back before the end of the week. They had to see to an extradition. You four will remain on call. I'll make it up to all of you. Even if I shut down S.C.U. for three days, I'll make sure you all get the deserved time off."

He shoots the four of us pointed looks.

We should be nicer. He's been here with us.

"Go to work," he finally huffs and shuffles back to his office.

* * *

My stomach rolls. The scent of fried dough and sugar mingles with the steaming coffee on the top of the grey steel table. Those scents would normally be welcome.

Today, it makes me that much more nauseous.

I need to focus on something else, something besides the queasy stomach.

Nora's too engrossed in the videos of the robberies. The three from before and the one that we just got.

It was my idea for the review, but now…

I'm not so sure there's a link. There are similarities, but this robbery lacks the…

"What do you think?" Nora's voice pulls me away from my thoughts. I blink and look at her.

"I think a lot. Which particular what are you wanting my thoughts on?" I say before having anytime to actually think about how that would sound to Nora.

By her narrowing eyes and pinched mouth, it has the effect I don't really want. "The robberies?"

"Well, you've seen the tapes now. Is there anything there that you think would tell us if the cases are connected?" I don't want to color her opinion. Nora's usually spot on, when her head isn't planted in her behind.

I watch her tongue swirl and plant itself in her cheek as she looks me over. The thoughts she's cycling through aren't obvious, but I know her well enough to know that they're there.

"I'm not sure," she finally says, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back on the two rear legs of the chair. "The entrance was near identical, but the duo lost it. It looks like they panicked and that's how the two customers ended up shot."

I lick and bite my lower lip, nodding. "I agree with that, but is it the same people?"

She cocks her head to the side and her eyes lose their focus. She turns her attention internally. A little thrill courses down my spine.

I love watching her mind work. As much as I enjoy watching her at the gym or chasing down a perp, I have to be honest enough to admit that when she focuses and starts thinking, she's just as, if not more, appealing to me.

Her left fingers drum on her right bicep before her mouth opens, "I don't know. Maybe our new group is sans their third party and that's why they freaked or they know the first group and tried it out for themselves?"

Not bad, but playing devil's advocate is what I'm good at so I verbalize another scenario, "Or maybe this new dynamic duo saw the first, maybe a teller or even a customer, and decided to try it out for themselves."

Her mouth screws to the side and puckers. She bobs her head and agrees with me.

"I think we should start breaking all four of them down. Lay them out and see if we can shake something loose, maybe we missed something on the first pass." She draws in a breath and lets the mountain of work she just gave us linger.

I add, "Well, we do have some similarities, enough to take a better look, I suppose..."

"Their clothing options was a sticking point, both the trio and the duo used the same type of guns. I'm not sure if they're the same guns..."

The grin spreading over my face stops Nora's run down.

"What?" she asks.

"The guns. The second robbery by the trio. One of the gunmen decided to make a point with a customer that looked like they were going to try something. We have casings and three slugs from one of the guns."

Her smile is a mirror of mine and she says, "Well then, I'll have to call Benton and see if he can get one of his lab rats to do something with that."

"I just knew him having the hots for you would play to our advantage," I tease and swat her left knee.

"I didn't know," she tries to defend herself for the umpteenth time since realizing Benton didn't just process our stuff first because he was a "nice" guy.

"I'm sure you were completely innocent, Nora dear. I'm sure you had no clue that he was starring at your chest every time you talked," I tease her a little more.

Her eyes narrow and I know I've won.

"Now, before we head over to the labs, I think maybe we should see if we can get Darius to give us any information. Maybe there's chatter around town." I stand and begin putting away the video equipment.

"You think these people are local?" she asks and helps me wheel the media cart back against its spot on the wall.

"Don't know. Worth a question or two. Besides, if we are giving Darius his C.I. fee this month, I'd like for him to earn it the old fashioned way."

She laughs at this and gathers her food from earlier. She stuffs the remaining bit of beignet in her mouth and says around it, "We can't have him getting our hard earned tax payers money without doing anything."

"It'd be criminal," I agree as we exit the vid room to head back to our desks.

* * *

I'm not sure what he was thinking when he told us to meet him here, but for the life of me, I can't remember the last time we met him at St. Croix Cemetery.

His need to goad Nora on occasion comes at the oddest times.

You would think that after six years, Nora would be used to it. The way she's shifting around against the mausoleum wall tells me she's just as jumpy as she was the first time we met Darius here.

It makes me smile.

God love her for it.

One day, she'll tell me why she's so jumpy in cemeteries. I've tried getting it out of her, but she's remained tight lipped about it for so long that a deathbed confession maybe the only way I get an answer.

Maybe.

I shift right and roll my shoulder against the wall to face my lover just as Darius' head pokes around the wall of the building. I tug Nora's right sleeve to get her to face me.

I brush some fly-aways behind her ear and Darius starts to sneak up behind her.

"You better have life insurance, Jamison, if you're thinking of trying to scare me," Nora mutters much to my delight and Darius' annoyance.

"You spoil my fun , cher," he says resting his chin on her shoulder.

Her eyes cut down to look at him and he looks up to meet her gaze. "Boo," he whispers wiggling his eyebrows.

"Ass," she mumbles and shoves back to dislodge my cousin.

"_'Kouzin!_" he finally greets me and steps around Nora to throw his arms around me. I hug him back and he says, "Long time no talk. I was beginning to think that you didn't love me no more."

I pull way to see his pouting face. "We've been busy."

"I heard," he informs us, "They gonna give you two a break anytime soon?"

Nora growls behind him and I have to agree with her.

Darius senses the tension so he holds his hands up, "Sorry, I was just curious. I've missed my _kouz_and her lady love."

"Yeah, yeah," I wave him off and ask, "How's Rashad?"

Darius shrugs. "Kid's a hormonal wreck."He scratches the back of his neck and admits, "I don't really know what to tell him. It's either him moaning about some girl that won't look his way or mooning over some girl that will look his way."

I smirk.

"Yeah, I don't think it will get any easier. You should talk to Nancy; maybe see if she can give you a few pointers. She did after all raise three and a half boys herself," I remind him and get two confused looks in return.

I can't believe they took that bait.

"Terry, Bobby, Nora and well, Patrick's kind of a man. He has the equipment, but..."

"Hey now," Nora steps up, just like I knew she would, but stops and cocks her head to the side. Her tongue comes out and the tip grazes her upper lip before she says, "If you think I'm such a guy, then I guess you won't mind sleeping on the couch. Wouldn't want to share a bed with one of those would you?"

"Now I didn't say that sug, although you not defending your dear brother's honor..." I bat my lashes at her and she rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, well, you didn't walk in on him cooking in an apron with lace trim and nothing else," she grumbles and slumps against the concrete wall.

"OH," Darius winces, "Yeah, that'd kinda suck a lot."

"Can we not relive that?" my Nora asks.

I feel bad enough for reminding her that I let it go. "Yes, yes we can."

"So, if we're changing topics, what can I do for the prettiest ladies I know?" Darius stuffs his hands in his coat pockets. I mirror his actions.

It's not too warm out today.

"Have you heard anything about a group, five people at the most, knocking over banks?" Nora asks.

"This about the robbery from the other day?" He wonders and I nod my head. "I heard it was only two...?"

"It was," I let him know, "but we also think there may be a connection to another set of robberies from a few months back. Those had three perps."

"We're hedging our bets," Nora says, trying to fill him in, "We're thinking they may be related, but we don't know for sure. Anything you know?"

He shakes his head. "I think you two know more than I do right now."

"You think you can keep an ear out?" I wave his service fee in front of him and he snatches it out of my hand.

Laughing, I put my hand back in my coat pocket.

"I'll keep an ear to the tracks for you two, let you know if any birdies say anything useful. You two need anything else? When I swung by and let Mister out today, I did the coffee cups that had been sitting for a week and took the clothes out of the dryer. I ain't no maid."

"But you look so cute in the outfit," Nora coos and pats his cheek before taking my hand and leading us away.

Darius doesn't even have time to respond before we're out of sight.


	3. Can't Feel the Heat

**Ch. 3 – Can't Feel the Heat**

Slamming the driver's side door, I adjust the gun at my hip and look around. "The grandeur of our forensics center is…" I trial off and look at the dilapidated houses surrounding the office, boarded up windows, rusted cars and a dirty street that bears the name of an American hero.

I don't think Dr. King would be too impressed with the splendor of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard.

Frankly, I think he'd turn over in his grave and try to stage a protest.

"It's a bit underwhelming," Nikki fills in for me, looking around with as much of a critical eye as I'm passing over the grey, boxy building.

"Yeah," I agree and plant my hands on my hips. "One day, maybe…"

Nikki slides up next to me and bobs her head. "I think we'll need to work on the esteemed Dr. Yardley at the next function we attend."

"You would think they'd…" I run a hand through my hair, brushing my bangs back wishing for a hair tie. "I just think that, all of the crime scene processing is done out of this department, right? Charlie and Benton are always yapping about having to do things for other parishes, but this building looks like it should be a pawn shop not a…"

"Vital part of the investigations that are perpetrated by some of the more…oily clientele that would visit a pawn shop in a building that looked like this?" Nikki tugs on my jacket sleeve for me to follow.

I let her lead the way and add, "Well, pretty much. It lacks a certain…respectability. These guys," I point to the building to indicate the staff inside, "bust their ass for us, for the people of the city and other parishes. The least we could do is give them a better place to work," I grump as we enter the front doors.

"Sug, if you feel so strongly about it, you can talk to my father. Maybe he can put a bug in someone's ear that will be able to find a more," her voice drops as we sign the log sheet at the reception desk and make our way towards Benton Faunce's lab, "suitable workplace."

"You do what you think's right," I say. "I just was voicing an opinion." We round the corner of the narrow hallway and I take in the water stained acoustic tile.

"Hmmm," Nikki hums and enters the primary processing lab.

We pass over a few work stations; all empty and go to the back of the lab where Benton does his thing. It's not a huge lab area, but it suits our friend well enough. Predictably, Benton is at a work bench, a laptop off to his left and a stack of files off to his right. He looks up when we enter and grins.

"Well look what the cat dragged in," he greets us. His smile is warm, inviting.

"Hello," Nikki greets, stopping short of the bench he's working at.

I stop on her left side and say, "Having fun?"

"Pfft, just the time of my life." He motions for us to sit on two empty stools, but Nikki and I both decline.

"Thanks," I explain, "We're actually just checking in. Seeing if you guys pulled anything from the bank the day before?"

I shouldn't be this hopeful.

"Hmm, we're actually still working on it. My interns don't come in for another hour and they're still processing." Benton scratches at the smooth skin of his chin and shakes his head.

"Okay," Nikki placates him. "There are a few things we wanted you to check on…"

"Hang on," Benton interrupts and turns his attention back to his computer, "I want to make notes."

We watch him fiddle with his computer before signaling Nikki with a wave of his hand to continue.

"First, see if you can prioritize anything the perps may have touched, anything they came in to contact with…"

"Oh, hey, hang on." The analyst holds up his left hand to stop Nikki from talking. "There have been some prints that didn't match with bank employees. We haven't had time to run them through the system yet…let me just…" He clamps his bottom lip between his teeth and starts searching the top of the table.

He shuffles folders to the side and evidence bags towards the back before he stands up and begins a decent pat down of his person. The sleeves of his lab coat a little short for his long arms.

"Ah-ha," he chirps, a satisfied smile spreading across his lips as his right hand slips into the front pocket of his coat. He pulls out a small flash drive and waves it around for Nikki and me to see. "I'll dump what we have on here. So far," he tells us sitting back down and plugging the USB drive into the side of his computer, "we pulled one and a half latent prints that look promising."

He looks away from the screen and winks at me. "Maybe you can go light a fire under someone to get these processed a bit faster?"

I shrug. "Maybe," I say noncommittally.

"Cool," he bobs his head, "What else?"

"Also, there were some robberies, three, a few months apart a while back," I fill in as Nikki takes the offered drive, "On the second robbery, shots were fired, nobody was hurt." I take my notebook out of my jacket pocket, flip it open and find the sheet that has the case numbers scribbled on it. Tearing it free, I hand it over to Benton, "There are three case numbers here. The second has the physical evidence, some slugs and shell casings. Can you compare those to the ones from our robbery? See if they match?"

"Consider it done." He takes the paper and tapes it to the side of his monitor. "Anything else?"

I shake my head and Nikki purrs, "Benton you are a warm beignet on a cold morning. Thank you."

"We owe you a drink or two," I promise him.

That earns me a slight blush and he ducks his head.

"Thanks, Benton," I say as Nikki and I ready to leave. "Call us and have a good day."

"You ladies have a good one yourself," he waves us off and is already back, staring at his computer before we even get halfway out of his lab door.

* * *

"I think I'd rather go see our shrink than go see Luke," I grumble as we make our way through Orleans Parish Central Police building.

This building isn't in as bad of shape as the forensics labs, but it isn't in the best of shape either.

Better neighborhood that's for sure.

Some of the people are sleazier, but I suppose that's to be expected.

"Come on," Nikki urges me up the steps and through the main entrance, "at least he's still talking to you. Poor Patrick hasn't talked to his cousins in over two years, Nora."

Which is exactly why I don't really want to go talk to Luke now.

Homophobic prick.

"Stop," Nikki halts our movements as we stop at the elevator to take us up the three flights of stairs to Luke's department. She spins on her thin heel and levels a look at me that tells me she knows exactly what I was thinking.

"He's still a prick," I growl loud enough so that only she can hear me, "the only reason he's still talking to me is because we have to work together occasionally."

My lover rolls her eyes, but concedes, "Be that as it may, Nora, act like the professional I know you to be and quit acting like he's the cousin that jumped on your pillow fort."

"Fine," I let it go and fold my arms across my chest. The door to the elevator opens. I motion her inside and follow, pressing the button for his floor. The cab ride is silent, just the whir of the motors as we're lifted 3 stories above the ground. The lurch of the space we're in signals our arrival and as the doors slide open, we step into a dimly lit office space.

It's always strange when we have to come see Luke at his station. He joined up with a pilot program the N.O.P.D. was running in conjunction with federal law enforcement to streamline data feeds and channels.

Since then, this unit, Assisted Informational Services or A.I.S. paired with the Technical Assistance Response Unit or T.A.R.U. to become the gate keepers of all things digital.

They handle the more extensive searches, processing of reports, statistics and coordinate with the other sixty-three parishes in the state.

The department has been recruiting steadily for two years. They still need all the help they can get.

Moving through the room, lit up by computer monitors, the only sounds that can be heard are the clicking of keys and a bit of chatter from phone conversations.

That is until we near my cousin's workstation. He's bobbing his head to Thin Lizzy.

"I think I should arrest you," I say before I have time to think about it. "Didn't I tell you that if you're going to listen to classic rock you stick to Sabbath, Priest, Zepplin, The Stones or Fleetwood Mac." I tisk and shake my head. "I could have sworn I taught you better than that."

His posture stiffens when he recognizes Nikki and me. "Hi," he says stiffly, straightening his back and stopping the music pouring from the computer's speakers.

" Luke," Nikki acknowledges my cousin and sits on the edge of his desk. "How is my seventh favorite Delaney doing today?"

His forehead scrunches up and his eyes squint, "Seventh? Really?"

"Well, Nora's, of course, first, then there's in no particular order, Patrick, Chris, Bobby, Reyna and your aunt." She sighs and tries to pat his arm, but he snatches it away.

Nikki doesn't let it affect her and she carries on, "I think seventh out of the lot isn't too bad."

"Yeah," he fidgets in his seat and scowls my way, "well, it depends on who you consider a Delaney."

"Luke," my voice drops in warning and I step up next to Nikki pressing my thigh against her bent knee.

"What do you two need?" he asks, licking his lips.

Nikki produces the flash drive from her coat pocket and hands it over to my cousin. "Mr. Faunce was kind enough to put some data about our new case on this little thing and we were wondering if you could run the prints. See if anything pops?"

"You two will leave if I agree?" he snatches the USB from Nikki's fingers and plugs it in his machine.

"We could," Nikki tries for playful, but it falls flat. She's getting fed up with his attitude.

I'm not too impressed with his manners.

"Yeah, well, being seen with you two isn't doing much for me. Bad enough I had to hear it from my mother, but the fact I can't say shit about the rumors..." his eyes cut to me and he shakes his head. "Shit makes me sick."

My jaw clenches and if it wasn't for the sweep of Nikki's hand down my arm to keep me in check, I'd have reached around her to throttle him.

"You know, Luke," Nikki's tone is sugary. It's not a good sign. "They aren't just rumors. Say what you will." Her head tilts to the side as she clucks, "I'm not saying you have to agree or whatever you people think about our lives, but you do have to respect the fact that family is family, right or wrong in your opinion. I thought Delaney's were a loyal bunch?"

"We are," he grits out and cuts his eyes to me. "Don't mean that some of us aren't a bunch of perverted freaks trying to ruin the family."

His eyes break to the screen in front of him and he informs us, "Nothing local. I'll have to do a deeper search. I'll call you when or if I find anything."

"The family's intact, Luke," I tell him, locking eyes and making sure he gets my message, "It's still me. Patrick is still Patrick. If you'd pull your oversized head out of your ass long enough, you may even see that."

I don't wait on his response or Nikki to follow me.

Stupid asshole.

I shove my way out of his department and head for the stairwell next to the elevator.

The funny thing is that I'm not so pissed about his opinion of me. I'm right enough with myself.

Not to say it doesn't hurt.

It hurts, but it's not the most troubling.

Patrick was a role model for all of us. He was the oldest. He got to do things first. He was our go to, all of us, my brothers and my cousins always went to him if we needed anything.

Now, they treat him like garbage.

It's fucking sickening.

My brother deserves better than the shit family he's got.

* * *

I shift the weight on my feet and Nikki hits the speaker button on our phone causing Dan's voice to ring through our living room, "I swear, you two are going to give me an ulcer at this rate."

Nikki wiggles her eyebrows at me and I roll mine.

She tightens the sash on her robe and Dan carries on, "Why in the hell do you think you've been given the reprieve to work at home?"

"Because, we can," Nikki tilts her head to the side and looks at the photos we have tacked up.

"Did you forget that you've finally let the cat out of the bag? You two don't have to be strangers here anymore," Dan reminds us. His tone carries this undercurrent of exasperation.

"Dan," I cut in on the conversation, "We have been there more than we've been at home. Are you forgetting we were there over seventy-two hours straight last week?" I put my hands on my hips, bunching up the tank top that I have on.

"Yeah, but," he starts lamely.

"Yeah, but nothing. We are just as effective here as we are at the station," Nikki cuts him off. "Now, besides giving us grief for missing that thing you call a meeting, anything else important that we need to know about? We do have work to do, you know."

"No, just keep me in the loop. I have a review with my boss later this afternoon, I'd like to share good news instead of what I have been," Dan resigns.

"Well, then, we'll let you know," Nikki winks at me before she continues, "just look at it this way, Harney, I can't review the case in my robe and goose Nora when I want if I were at the station."

I groan. Dan takes the bait, "Well when you put it like that, goose her for me and call me later."

My protest is cut off as the line goes dead.

Asshole.

Nikki snickers and turns the phone off. "That was fun," she chirps and leans back against the couch.

"For you," I grumble and fold my arms over my chest.

"Sugga," she drawls, "you can goose me to if it will make you feel any better."

My arms drop and I relax, plopping down on the couch next to her. I rest my head against the back of the cushion and close my eyes.

"I just like being home," I admit. Looking at Nikki out of the corner of my eyes, I see her position mirrors mine.

I think she's gotten prettier. Her features show only subtle signs of age. A crinkle here, a faint line there.

We go to the salon regularly enough that I couldn't tell you if she had a lot of grey.

Probably just as much as I do.

"What?" she asks, not bothering to open her eyes, "I got something on my face?"

I reach out and brush a few strands of hair out of my way before I answer her, "Nope, just thinking about how beautiful you are,"

Admitting that brings a smile to my face.

"Hmmm," she hums, cracks her right eye open and lets her head fall to the left to look at me, "you trying to get lucky?"

I match her silly grin, crook a finger and open up my arms. She wastes no time crawling in them. Kissing her full lips, I tell her the truth, "Only if it's with you."

"Good answer, Delaney, good answer." She does pull away from me though and spoils my morning, "We do have work to do. Bad guys to catch, people to annoy and I do need to swing by the foundation to sign some papers for Jen."

"Yeah, I got that message too. She thinks we are avoiding her." I follow my girl's lead and stand.

"Then we better hurry up and get ready. Shower with me?"

I make a face at her and scoff, "Did you even have to ask?"


	4. Shadows Crawl

**Ch. 4 – Shadows Crawl**

I lean back against the maroon padded leather of the booth Nora and I are sharing with Casey and her girlfriend, Gabby.

I'm a little shocked that she has a girlfriend.

Casey has always held firm to her 'no strings' lifestyle.

There must be something different with this one.

My assessment of Gabby hasn't changed.

Evil pixie about covers it.

What I do know in the hour or so since we've been here is that Nora's started in on a sulk that defies logic.

Three drinks in with easy conversation and I still can't pin down what's troubling her.

It can't be work. We checked out sooner than we should have, but nothing from our actives was popping. We could have stayed and watched the dust settle.

We're also neck deep in bodies, but we needed the break.

I run a hand over Nora's right thigh then settle on the inside of it.

"So," Casey says after setting her empty beer bottle on the lacquered table top, "You two have been working nonstop. Why did you agree to come out and not go home and sleep?"

Nora shrugs, but I offer, "Well, we figured that if we drunk enough tonight, we'd still be drunk by the time we ended up going into work and that, Casey, my dear, was the better option than going home to be annoyed that neither of us can sleep."

"Well, for the record," Casey points between the two of us, "I think both you are nuts."

"Duly noted and logged," I say before taking another healthy drink of my rum and coke. The alcohol is a little too watered down from the melted ice cubes. We'll be due for a refill soon. I set the drink down and look curiously at the new couple.

"So, _how_ did you two meet?" Nora drawls, earning a look from me.

"Through a mutual friend," Gabby offers.

That's all she offers.

It's Casey that takes the reins, "You remember, Bill?" She looks at Nora than at me.

"Interesting young man," I remember. "He seemed intent on introducing us the varying differences of skinhead subculture if I remember rightly?"

Casey nods her head.

Gabby snickers. "Bill's good for that."

"How is he by the way?" I ask, busying myself with trying to quietly soothe Nora between the lags in conversation.

"Good," Casey says, "he's been between here and Chicago the past few months. He's in town this week though and," she turns her attention to Gabby and asks, "Is he supposed to go back soon?"

Gabby shakes her head. "I think he's home base for the foreseeable."

"That's good. So, Bill introduced you two?" Nora asks.

"Not really…" Casey ventures.

"Actually, Cas and I have known each other since I was in high school. We were acquaintances. I was working in Chicago and Bill called me up saying that he needed some friends down here and could get me a job." Gabby shrugs. "I figured that it could be a nice change of pace and here we are."

"And what were you doing in Chicago?" I'm curious.

"I was working at a tattoo shop as a piercer during the days and a bartender at night." She takes a drink of the dark beer she's been nursing since we got here. "All those types of jobs are easy to relocate with. Everyone drinks and for some reason, there's never a shortage of people wanting to get puncture wounds," she smirks. Her eyebrows dance.

"Tattoos I get, but piercing…" Nora trails off and shakes her head.

"I still don't know why you have one," I poke at her.

Nora rolls her eyes, but Casey chimes in, "Oh, come on, Nik. It's sweet."

Gabby rolls her eyes. "You, love, are too much of a romantic."

"Pfft, no such thing. I understand you aren't one to be wooed or whatever, but some girls, cough cough, like it every now and again." Casey sticks her tongue out at her girlfriend and makes a silly face.

Gabby chuckles. "I'll remember that."

My hand on Nora's thigh rubs circles, trying to get her to relax a little.

It's Casey that picks up on what's happening on this side of the table, "You feeling okay?" She directs the question to Nora.

Nora covers the surprise quickly and her shoulders drop a little, the muscle under my hand twitches and she lies, "Yeah," she sighs, "just really kind of tired."

"I get like that too," Gabby admits. "I used to work like three jobs; I'd work from nine p.m. to seven a.m., go straight to my other job until three, go home for a few hours and then go to work from six to nine to go back to my other job. You get foggy after awhile." The short blonde bobs her head while her thumb nail works the label free on Casey's beer bottle. She shakes her head and asks, "What do you two do again?"

Nora holds up her gold shield and Gabby's eyes widen.

"Cool," she recovers quickly and Cas lays her head on the woman's shoulder. Gabby threads their fingers together on top of the table and lays her cheek against the top of Casey's head.

"We've been going nonstop for about three weeks, so really, tonight, was kind of needed," I fill in. "In fact," I shake my empty rock glass and decide, "I think we're about due for another round."

Nora raises her eyebrow and asks, "Just how exactly are you planning on getting us home?"

I giggle and hold up my phone, "Phone a friend, cher. Darius said that he could pick us up if need be."

"How is he?" Casey asks, "His band hasn't played in a few weeks and I miss seeing him around. The man's hilarious."

"He's good. Rashad is taking up a bit more of his time, but he's not bad at all," Nora answers while I stand and look over the table.

"Who wants what?" I inquire as I lean against the table.

"Nothing, thanks," Gabby and Casey say together.

Nora raises her empty glass and says, "Two more of these and while you're there, maybe a couple shots. My liver isn't adequately saturated."

"Nor, you are up to big things over there," Casey whistles.

Laughing, I saunter off to go fill the order. Weaving my way through the cluster of people to the bar. The man working it tonight is someone I'm used to, Jared, I think his name is.

He smiles at me and I think I'm wrong about his name. Oh, well, nothing a good batting of my lashes can't cure. "Three rum and cokes, more rum than coke and four shots of the reserve tequila you hide under the counter." I wink at him and lean forward.

He nods and as his eyes drift below my neckline.

Boys are soooo easy.

He finally realizes that I know what he's doing and scurries off to fill the order. I look over my shoulder and see two men standing in front of our table. I watch as Casey and Gabby scoot from the booth. The shorter blonde helps Casey into her jacket and then Casey leans down to say something to Nora.

The two men and our two companions for the evening head for the door, disappearing from my line of site once they get past the dance floor.

* * *

I lean against Nora and she, in all her drunken glory leans, into me. We stumble and stagger out of Phantoms. I gave up trying to multitask. My phone goes back to my coat pocket.

My head feels okay, a little fuzzy around the edges, but Nora's three sheets and then some to the wind.

"Ya know," she kinda slurs, resting her head on my shoulder, "I had fun tonight."

My heels clack against the pavement and kick little sprays of water up from the storm that just passed. "Me too, sug."

"Good." My girl leans up and pecks my cheek. "I'm sorry too. About how crappy things have been. I kinda think that someone, like Dveris or maybe Tosano, maybe they're gunnin' for the department, ya know?"

Her arm tightens around my waist when we stop in front of Frankie. Reaching around I unhook the keys from her left hip belt loop, I unlock the passenger side door and deposit her on the bench seat. As I tucker her feet in and shut the door, the wind decides to pick up, sending a sharp, icy breeze through the thin material of my top.

Shivering, I run around the front end of Frankie cursing my lack of forethought in the jacket department. Through the windshield, I see Nora lean over and pop the lock on the driver's side. I'm grateful when she pulls the latch and the door pushes open so I can dive inside.

"I's cold," Nora states and snuggles in to my side. I manage to slip the key in the ignition and turn Frankie over. "And I am sorry," she nuzzles into my neck.

Oh, jeeze.

"Things have been God awful at work. I think they are gunnin' for us. Maybe just me and you, but the teams takin' a beating too." As per the standard for a drunk Nora, her hands develop a mind of their own and run around my torso to lace together around my hips.

"Nor, sug, maybe we should wait to have this conversation when you're sober," I suggest.

"Nope," she shoots me down. Of course she does. Why wouldn't she? "I like being out though."

Eh?

"I mean, like, I don't have to make up bullshit excuses and my mom knows, which is awesome, kinda. I wish she'd drop the marriage thing, but…" Nora stops talking as her head pops up from its place on my shoulder.

She's grinning like a fool and I shut my eyes.

I really don't need to hear the words that I think that she's going to say.

The silence in the car stretches. My eyes stay shut.

Eventually, her head finds its spot on my shoulder once again and she sighs. I allow my eyes to open and rest my cheek on top of her blonde head.

"Being out is okay," she mumbles. "What I don't like is Gabby."

My mouth quirks up. I lace our fingers together and let the heat from the car warm us up.

"And why not?" I take the bait and just content myself with hearing her talk.

I feel her face scrunch up and she says, "Dunno, she's just…sometimes she's okay, like I'm good with her and I think she'll treat Casey right. Right? 'Cause, I know you weren't her biggest fan, especially with the way you found out about us, but I love her, Nik and she deserves it."

"You love her, huh?" I poke at my girl. I'm not sure this is entirely fair to Nora, but she's given me an opening. I'm going to exploit it.

"Yep." Her head pops up again and I look at her. Her brows are knitted together and she's chewing her lower lip. The glassy hue of her eyes doesn't bode well. "Like I love Jill. Jill's special that way. Just like my Ann. They're all mine though. My Jill. My Ann. My Casey."

"Hmm." I'm not sure if I should be jealous or not. I am. Kind of.

"So, she needs to be treated right and did you call Darius?" I watch as she fishes for her phone.

Stopping her, I nod. "I told him to never mind. I'm not drunk. Buckle up, Nora. I'll get us home."

She shrugs and goes back to leaning on me. I lean against my door and push her against her own.

She's already half asleep and doesn't notice the difference between my body and her precious car's passenger door.

I put Frankie into gear and head towards home.

It's going to be a long night.

I navigate through a city that bustles about at all hours. Weaving in and out of traffic towards our home's quiet neighborhood, I split my attention between Nora and task of operating a muscle car that goes from zero to 'oh, shit' in the time it takes to blink.

New Orleans is a favorite place to party and the tourists eat it up. I watch one group of said tourists pass the front of the car as I wait on the light to change. Once they do and it does, the arrow for the left turn on to our street lights up. I rumble down it, put Frankie in her designated spot in front of Bruce and kill the engine.

"Nora," I lean over and shake my lover's shoulder. "Nor, we're home. Come on."

"Wha?" she mumbles wiping the corner of her mouth.

"Home," I say and point to our walkway. "Our bed is that way."

"Oh, yeah." Nora brightens and rights herself.

Exiting from my side, I wanted to make it over to her before she tried to make her escape, but I wasn't quick enough. She's already stumbling up the sidewalk. I make sure her door is locked before taking off after her and place a steadying hand at the small of her back.

We manage to make it to our door with only one incident which was actually my fault. The broken heel of my pump is clutched in my left hand as I steer Nora against the frame of the door so I can unlock it.

The house is quiet when I get us through and lock up while Nora takes the steps one at a time.

Throwing the lock and racing to catch up to my lover, I ask "You okay?" and come up behind her.

"Hmm, yeah. I just want to get to sleep." She finds a little bit of energy and we reach the landing. Not bothering with anything else, we both strip down to our undies, bra's get discarded with the rest of our clothing and fall into bed.

Mister hops up and settles at our feet.

"Nik," Nora whispers as she slips up behind me, pressing her knees behind mine. One arm sneaks its way over my tummy to grab my hand. She twines our fingers together and presses them between my breasts. "You know I didn't include you in my love list for a reason, right?" her question blows her warm, alcohol laced breath over my ear and cheek.

"No," I manage and try to pull away, but she holds firm.

"Why would I when you're in a league of your own," she responds and my eyes burn and water.

Damn her.

* * *

I glance down at the Philip Stein I purchased last month as an early birthday present for myself and wonder how much longer the parole board is going to take with Nora. She's been in their hot seat for the past half hour.

I know if it were me, I'd rather them keep Skip Vatter locked up for as long as possible. I didn't even know Nora when she put him away. It was her and her first partner, Jerry Tombridge that closed the case. Nora filled me in on the case and on Tombridge. She hasn't been too kind when she's brought either of them up.

The only good things she's said are that he retired soon after she transferred to S.C.U.

I do know that Vatter was a piece of work and took the fall for a series of assaults. Ten years later the man gets to try for parole.

I'm not entirely sure that's fair. Two of his victims showed today. One is permanently handicapped and the other's face is paralyzed on the left side.

The goal of prison is rehabilitation and penance. Listening to Vatter talk, he says the right words, but his tone…

It smacks of bad acting and poorly rehearsed lines.

Nora's been trying to tell them as much. I'm not sure that they're hearing her.

The head of the board thanks her for her time. She doesn't look pleased.

Looking up, I see her stand and turn towards me. The suit she put on this morning was a crisp black with a royal blue silk blouse, but now, it seems to have lost its appeal. My Nora looks rumpled and tired.

I stand and follow her out of the room.

The hallway is standard institution décor. White washed walls, vinyl flooring, brown baseboards and acoustic tiles. Our heels clack as we move along, filling the silence. We round the corner to the front and a guard hits the buzzer to let us into the antechamber where we left our guns.

"You two done?" the guard, the name tag reads Conner, asks.

"For this week," I inform her. "The two we had today and unfortunately, they couldn't schedule our other hearing this week, so we'll see you on Monday."

"That's a pisser," the guard tries to sympathize with us, "It's what a three hour hike, one-way?"

"Yep," Nora confirms, securing her sidearm to her hip. "See you then."

I wave goodbye to the officer and pick up my pace to catch up with Nora.

From my purse, I produce our sunglasses and hand hers off. Slipping them on, we head straight for Bruce and I unlock the doors right before Nora yanks the driver's side open.

Sighing, I hop in the SUV and buckle up.

She'll let lose in a second and I can't help but feel a little miffed about the goings on today.

We had a decent – okay so we got her drunk, but that usually does the trick when she's wound tighter than a girdle on a Baptist minister's wife at an all you can eat pancake breakfast.

These damn parole hearings have shot it all to hell.

I open my mouth to say her name just as her hand comes down and smacks the top of the steering wheel. "Those stupid bastards!"

The muscles in her neck chord and she spits, "They're going to let him out. They saw his victims. They heard me talk. I told them to watch the interrogation tapes and they're still going to let him go."

"I'm sorry," is pretty much all I got. My case wasn't so bad. My guy, Leon Florence, should get out. Ron and I busted him with a truck load of stolen goods and the guy's served his time.

Nora's eyes shut tight and she leans her head back trying to get a grip.

"And we gotta come back up here in three days." Her cheeks puff out and then deflate as the air leaves her puckered lips in a disgruntled huff.

"At least we can just go home today," I try and find some silver lining.

Nora kills the Pollyanna moment. "No we don't. Remember I told my mom we'd be over for dinner." Her head falls forward to thump against the steering wheel. "She wants to know what we're doing for Thanksgiving."

That's actually a good question.

"What did we do last year?" I wonder, scratching my forehead.

Nora straightens up and turns the car over and heads towards the Sixty-six. The one thing about Angola is there's only one way in which means there's only one way out.

"Your dad gave us a bye and went to your Uncles, we were supposed to go over to mom's, but we ended up covering for Georgia and Jesse," she answers as we pass the main entrance and turn on to the highway.

"Oh, right, we caught that floater in the Duncan Canal." My face sours. "That ruined my appetite."

Nora manages a half hearted laugh. "Mine too, but we still have to worry about what we're going to do this year."

"Hmmm," I hum and lean my seat back, relaxing against the soft leather, "I don't think daddy's gonna let me off the hook this year."

"We could split up for the day, you go to your dad's and I can go to my mom's?" Nora suggests and I shake my head.

"Your mom won't let me off the hook either. Daddy's gonna want to see you." I turn my head and crack one eye open to spy at her. She's a damn fine thing to look at in the mid-afternoon. The fingers on her right hand drum against the top of the steering wheel.

I lean forward and turn the stereo on. "What do you want to listen to?" I ask as I pick up the CD holder resting between us on the middle console.

"She's also going to want to see Rashad. Terry, Joanie and the kids, from what I've been told are coming down too." Her eyes skirt to the holder and she shrugs, "Ladies choice."

"Oh," is pretty much all I can manage and select Keyshia Cole's new album.

We've seen Terry and his family once more after the debacle at the dinner Nancy put together right after we came out to her. That little get together didn't have the same amount of drama, but it wasn't pleasant either.

Well, let's see, me, Nora, Patrick, Chris, Reyna, Bobby, Nancy, Terry, Joanie, Josh, Brandon, Daddy, Rashad, Darius…that's fourteen. "If we include my father, Darius and Rashad, that's fourteen people for Thanksgiving…"

"That's fourteen that will not be in the same place," Nora interrupts me.

"Well, right now, it's not in the same place, but what if we just put everyone together?" I ask. "It would save us from going to different places and really, it's only Daddy that would be extra. I mean if your mom's intent on seeing Rashad, which means it'll be Darius too and maybe Meemaw, if she doesn't take off with her church again."

Nora's attention splits from the road to look at me a moment and she asks, "And just where are you planning on putting all of us at? My mom's house won't fit that many."

I shrug. "What if we give her the run of Daddy's house? The kitchen's big enough and it'll fit everyone just fine."

A protest forms on Nora's lips, but she stops from voicing it and presses her lips together instead.

"Maybe it'll keep those with an acidic tongue in check," I suggest trying to win Nora over.

She sighs and agrees, "Maybe. We'll run it by mama tonight and see."


	5. Satellite

**Ch. 5 – Satellite**

I fish the keys to Frankie out of my jacket pocket and toss them at Nikki while I answer my phone, "Delaney." Nikki opens my door for me and I peck her cheek as I slip inside the passenger side of Frankie.

"I should have known when we were kids," Luke rumbles on the other end of the line, "You remember when we snuck out in eighth grade to go to the eleven o'clock showing of Evil Dead and Patrick caught us halfway to the theatre?"

Nikki gives me a look as we pull away from the foundation's office and head towards St. Roch. I cover the phone up with my left hand and say, "Luke."

She nods and goes back to focusing on the road.

"Huggy, you there?" he asks me. I let the smile slip.

"You called me Huggy," I say never before happier to be called that ridiculous nickname.

"Yeah, well..." he stops and I hear the phone shift around, "I went out with Bobby last night and we talked. You and Nikki been together that long, eh?"

"How long is that long?" I wonder curious to see how much Bobby talked.

"Bobby Gene said over six years. Said he walked in on you and Nikki at your place, that's how he found out," he snickers and I blush.

I don't think I'll ever live that down.

"Yeah, yeah he did. Nik and I moved in together shortly after that." I look over at the woman we're discussing and remember that weekend.

Some of the best make-up sex ever.

He coughs and in his own way gives me the okay, "So, your shit of a little brother was a sneaky sonuvabitch last night and ambushed me. Patrick was there with his...with uh, Chris. We talked." I listen to some paper shuffling in the background and he picks back up, "He's doing well. Chris is an all right guy."

"They both are, Luke. So why are you asking me about that movie?" I'm curious now. That was ages ago and we both got grounded for a week because of it.

"You always manage to get me in to some type of trouble. Those prints you left me with the other day, Hug, where'd you get'em?"

I take my hand and wipe down the dash. I need to spend a few hours and detail my baby. She's dirty. "They were pulled from the scene. They didn't match any of the bank employees. Benton thought you'd be able to see if maybe they belonged to one of our suspects."

"Well, they pulled a hit off I.A.F.I.S," he tells me and I rack my brain to try and remember what system that is. It comes to me after only a few seconds of fumbling, Integrated Automated Fingerprint Identification System. F.B.I., D.O.J. and local law enforcement agencies were responsible for putting it together. Right.

"It seems that the prints belong to a kid that was arrested seven years ago for felony assault and two misdemeanor criminal mischief charges. Chad Stohs, the owner of your prints, was also murdered by a rival gang member, Ian "Grinny" Grinton, six years ago," his tone is this shy of incredulous.

"So, there's a mistake," I lead him down the obvious path.

"No, there isn't," he stops me. "Hug, I ran the stupid things seven times. I got a twelve point match all seven. Chad Stohs was at that bank."

Running a hand through my hair, I slump against the bench seat and close my eyes.

"You want to hear the rest?" he asks me and I groan. "I'll take that as a 'yes.' So, now, while him being dead for six years is weird enough, weirder still is when I went to do some more digging, Chad Stohs' records are blocked. Deemed classified. I can't access anything except his D.O.B., newspaper articles regarding his prior indiscretions, his birth and his death certificate."

"Where's he from?" I ask.

"Chicago, Cook county and the state of Illinois has it all blocked off," he lets me know and I scowl.

"No way around that?" I have to ask.

"Nope. I even called a friend of mine at the Bureau. He couldn't get past the required clearance levels."

"Text me your email at the station and Stohs case number." I pinch the bridge of my nose and breath deep.

"You think you can get it?"

"Luke," I warn. "Please just, do what I ask."

"Okay, also, I called Benton and got the footage from the bank. ADT did a shitty job, by the way. I'm trying to enhance some of the images. If Stohs was there, and I think he was, I'd like to know why he took off those gloves he was wearing. They looked like black leather. They wouldn't have transferred any oils."

"Which means he had to remove them," I follow his train of thought.

"Right, I was thinking maybe I can see something with better images."

"That would be helpful. Anything at this point," I sigh, "would be better than what we have. Did Benton say anything about the slugs or shell casings?"

"Not to me. I'd give him a call though. Your M.E. buddy, Dr. Ophoven was in the back ground and I overheard him talking about doing your vics today."

"Okay, thanks Luke, really, you've done good work," I say honestly, happily.

"Anytime, Hug. I'll be waiting on those files," he signs off and I pull the phone away from my ear.

Hitting the '3' on my phone, I let it speed dial the person who can get me what I need. Annie doesn't disappoint and picks up on the second ring, "Flemming."

"I need a favor," I say without preamble. "I'm going to send you an email, a name and a case number that's sealed by the D.O.J. in Illinois. I need the classified case file."

"Send it through, babe, I'll have it sent within the hour," Ann doesn't ask questions and for that I'm grateful. "I'll catch up with you later."

"Thank you," I say and end the call. The text message icon on my Blackberry is enhanced so I open it up and see the message from Luke. Forwarding that, I drop my phone in my lap and begin to fill Nikki in on the call's revelations.

"So now what?" Nikki wonders.

I shrug. "I think maybe we stick to our game plan until we get any more information." I check my watch and realize it's still pretty early in the day. Not even lunch time. It will take at least four hours for Charlie to do the post. Another two maybe three for Benton to do an analysis on the casings and slugs.

"So gym, check-in with Dan and then we go accost one Ms. Holly Noyola?" Nikki ventures and I grin.

I could use an hour two at the gym.

* * *

Sweat beads and trickles down my temples, neck and back. My legs are still tingling from the forty minutes on the treadmill. Nikki is in a little worse shape as she finishes her program.

I keep telling her she should spend a bit more time with me at the gym than shopping with Jen, but she has yet to heed my warning.

This will be the second time we've gotten to the gym together in five weeks. It will also be the second time I beat her on the run.

Now my Nikki is many things, but a graceful loser she is not. Her competitive streak has landed her in hot water before. Really, I think it's the idea that a loss to her is the same as someone telling her no.

Above all else, I've learned that no one tells Nikki Beaumont no.

They'll lose if they press the issue.

Every time.

I content myself with wiping my machine down and watching my sports bra, spandex clad lover running her ass off in the stations basement gym.

I may concede to dying a happy person if I get to watch her run while I do it.

My oogling doesn't get to last long. She goes through her cool down paces before I have a chance to get really worked up.

Her treadmill comes to a halt and Nikki is red faced, sweaty and winded. She is smiling though. That's always a good thing in my book. Unless I'm in trouble and she gives me this one grin that the devil would get worried over. I try to hide when that happens.

"Feeling those miles, detective?" I can't help poke her a little.

Her hands go to her hips and I lick my lips.

She's pretty delicious looking right now.

"Feel great actually. I could go another round if you're up for it." She winks at me and I toss her towel at her head.

"I'd take you up on that offer, partner, but we have a young lady's day to ruin and," I lean in and brush her upper arm, "I don't think you'd be able to keep up. I killed my routine today "

Nikki gives it right back and says, "We'll see who has a hard time keeping up tonight, sug, or if you're up for it," her head cants to the side towards the gym's showers. Her eyebrows wiggle at me and I have the decency to blush.

It wouldn't be the first time in the showers, but it would be the first time mid-day in the showers.

Honestly I'm half tempted to take her up on the offer. We've been...

Slumpish and today's the first day things haven't felt off kilter.

A snort, mean and clearly intended for her and me to hear, sound off to our left.

Her voice wasn't loud and shouldn't have carried. Our heads turn together to see a four year uni, David Brasseau, glaring in our direction.

Being recognized by us seems to give him the courage to step in to mine and Nikki's shared space. I stiffen, but Nikki steps between us, moving me to the back.

I want to be able to see her face because by the way David's reacting, it can't be pleasant.

"Something to say Brasseau?" she challenges him and he huffs.

"Maybe, I do," he drawls and his eyes skirt from Nikki's face to mine. "If you were anyone else, Beaumont, you and your partner'd probably be out on your ass. Tell me, how much did daddy shell out for you two to keep those pretty gold shields?" he sneers.

"Why don't you take a flying leap..." I start off, but Nikki stops me, her hand reaches behind her and grabs my arm.

This seems to only give the buffoon courage and he carries on, "Personally, I think you took quite the payload from the deputy chief. Tell me, does being on your knees that long hurt?"

Nikki cocks her head to the side and she steps up to him, it doesn't look like there's any space at all between them when she says, "You'll have to ask your wife that question," and pats his cheek.

He grabs for her, but I stop that. Pushing Nikki out of the way, I get between them and slam him against a mirrored wall, pulling back on his meaty left index finger. I yank it backwards so it nearly touches the back of his hand. "Try that again and I'll make sure your grandchildren feel the damage I do to you," I hiss in his ear.

Tears well up in his eyes as I press down harder. His knees shake trying to keep his weight up.

"You should do yourself a favor, Dave, don't pay attention to the rumor mill," Nikki goes to his other side and whispers, "Goodness knows what else could be floating around. Why just the other day, I heard that a couple of uni's were nearly pinched for on the job freebies from a few working girls. I think your name was mentioned. It'd be a shame if the wife heard about that."

He pales further and I let up on his finger, shoving the hand back into his broad chest. I smack his shoulder. To most it would look like I was just playing around, but the exposed skin I hit shows an outline of my hand.

"Come on, Nor, we got a homicide to solve," Nikki says placing a hand at the small of my back and leads me towards the women's locker room.

Stupid prick.

Thankfully, the locker room is quiet; a few showers are going, but no one else is around. My legs are a little rubbery, but I ignore it. You get used to the feeling after awhile.

I focus on the locker door as Brasseau's face floats in front of me and I swing.

The impact is loud. Echoing off the concrete walls and floor. The burn feels good. Calming even.

One punch. The locker rattles. I pull back and let lose. Two, three, four strikes and now there's a sizable dent in the door. It's smeared with blood.

"Feel better?" Nikki asks me. She's to my right and far enough way not to get caught up in a punch, but close enough to stop me if I swing again.

I stretch my hand. A few knuckles pop and grind. My wrist snaps as I rotate it. I shrug.

"Come on," Nikki grabs my elbow and our shower bag, leading us to two empty stalls towards the back.

* * *

Some stereotypes you can't get away from. I think the cop and the donut one is a little unfair. Who doesn't like donuts? Even Benny and his health conscious, vegetarian ways, will not turn one down.

One stereotype that I hate, but that's actually pretty true is the one where the detective has a bottle of Pepto that they chug from in their desk drawer. I've had one in mine for eight years, replacing the bottle as needed.

Honestly, it comes in handy. Along with the industrial sized bottle of Motrin I keep next to it. I pull the Pepto and the Motrin out. I remove the lid from both medications, shake four two-hundred milligram tablets into my hand and pop them in my mouth. I chase them down with the pink stuff and gag at the taste.

You'd think after all these years, they'd be able to make it better tasting.

"Are you going for the world's oldest cliché or are you really hurting that much?" Nikki asks from across our joined desks.

I wince and shrug. My hand throbs. It's bruised and cut up.

I really can't blame anyone else for that, but two of my middle knuckles are swollen and knotted.

"I'm fine. I don't think the crawfish at lunch was the best idea," I admit and she snickers.

"Serves you right for making me watch you eat them," she doesn't give me an inch. She hasn't since we left the gym.

Her coolness has more to do with my reaction and the locker door than anything else.

But, whatever, better than his face and me getting suspended.

"What did we think of Noyola?" my partner asks, choosing to ignore the obvious barbs she could toss my way.

It's a kindness on her part.

"I think she's too insistent that she and her boy toy were together the whole night," I say scratching at my chin. "The autopsy pulled skin from under the vics fingernails. Benton said it'd be another few days before they get a type on it and any hits that may result."

"That was Monday though." Nikki leans back in her chair and laces her fingers behind her head.

"He'll call if he gets anything. But Charlie did say that it was a clean rape. No fluids present. Just tearing and her own blood." I lean forward and rub my stomach. It rumbles under my hand and another wave of burning washes up the back of my throat. "We're still waiting to hear back from Luke too. I want to see what Ann was able to send him."

Nikki's face is sympathetic as she looks my way. "You okay?"

I nod. "Heartburn that would kill an elephant, but yeah, I'll live."

Truthfully, throwing up might be a good decision.

"You two look like hell," Georgia says from my left. I squint and look up to see her hobbling over on that stupid walking cast she's stuck in.

"When'd you get back?" Nikki asks, sitting up in her chair.

"This morning. Thank God. If I had to listen to one more round of cutsey, kiddy banter from my partner talking to his children, I was going to puke or kill him," she says leaning up against our desks.

"How'd it go?" I wonder as I lean back and look her over. "Also, I feel like shit, so it fits today."

Georgia bobs her head and shrugs. "One more sleaze bag we get to add to crowded jails."

"A closed case is a closed case," I remind her and get two snickers. Nikki's mouth opens and I know what's coming. I hold a hand up to stop the soap box sermon that's headed this way. "Now, wait, I don't need a lecture from the woman who will spout statistics to prove our system is still deeply troubled and colored by antiquated racist policies or how the inherent infrastructure of the system is geared towards pandering to the white middle and upper class."

"What?" Georgia looks between the two of us clearly confused.

"You mean you've escaped her diatribes?" I'm incredulous. No one's escaped those. Hell, I think not even God could scurry away when my girl lets loose on the evils of our racist, classist system.

Georgia still looks pretty skeptical. "Really?"

Nikki just bobs her head.

"There's a list she keeps. Things that our colleague would like to change."

"We'll have to get together and chat then." Georgia puts her right hand in the front pocket of her tan slacks and toys with whatever is in there.

I look at Nikki and she quirks her eyebrow at me. My right shoulder lifts up in reply.

She goes for it, "What's wrong, Sarte? You seem a little surprised."

I swallow and know exactly where this going. May as well be as supportive as I can. Nikki deserves it. Actually, between Nik and Darius, I've mourned for Erica myself. She changed Nikki's life, the woman deserves my respect.

"One day, Georgia, we'll fill you in on the woman that changed my Nikki's life." I keep my focus on Nikki.

Her grateful smile is all the confirmation I need of her understanding.

Georgia removes her right hand from her pocket and holds a set of keys in her fist. She grins. "I'll hold you to that, Delaney."

"Would expect nothing less, Georgia." I look away from Nikki finally and grin back at my friend.

"Also," Georgia tosses the keys on a stack of files between Nikki and me, "Brasseau's an ass." She wiggles her eyebrows at us and starts to hobble towards her desk. "Serves him right."

NIkki and I look at the keys and then at each other. I shrug. She's the one that picks them up and dumps them in the trash before dumping her half full cup of coffee over them and some crumpled pieces of paper.

"Detectives," Dan comes out of his office with two bodies trailing behind him, "Gather up please."

Benny and Dom poke their heads up from the reports they were studiously working on and Georgia stands up next to hers. The three of them amble over our way and Dan plants himself in front of us. The two people fan out beside him.

One's a short blonde with bright blue eyes and the other...

I blink and rub my eyes, making sure that I'm not seeing things.

My vision clears from the rubbing and nope, I'm still seeing Bobby dressed in slacks, button down shirt and a tie.

"We're up for training and I'd like to take a minute and introduce you to Kristine Meyer to the squad. I'm sure Bobby doesn't need an introduction. They'll be working with us for a bit. We need to show them the ropes. They just got promoted to plain clothes."

Bobby smirks my way and I groan.

How could he not tell me about this?

Nikki looks just as annoyed at him as I do.

Benny's the first to pipe up though, "Not another Delaney around here. One surly pain in the ass is enough."

"Actually," Nikki defends, "Bobby's a sweetie. Much more agreeable than his sister."

I toss the first thing I pick up, a crumpled piece of paper, at my partner, "Hey!"

The team erupts in to laughter and congratulations and welcomes are given all around.

My brother's in big trouble.

He must sense it because as soon as it dies down, he looks at me and says, "You'd have known what was happening today if you checked your voicemail."


	6. Medals & Scars

**Ch. 6 – Medals & Scars**

"This is starting to wear thin, Nora," I pout as my arms unfold to unbuckle my seat belt. She pulls to the front of the line of police cars and puts Frankie in park.

Her sigh tells me a lot, but she tries to find the sunny side, "At least it was only our bath that got interrupted." She tilts her head in my direction, smirking.

"Hmm," I growl, "if it had been anything more, I'd be forced into felony assault."

Following Nora, I step from the car and look around. The air is still and just this side of chilly. The night sky is clear and the moon high and large enough to show me the taped off area of a building half gutted by fire. No fire trucks though and it doesn't smell like there was one recently.

"Must be old," Nora speaks up and I look at her. Her head motions to the house and I nod.

"Come on. Let's go find out why we are needed so urgently." I start off on a path around the hollowed house; it leads us towards the back next to another gutted building and a field.

I stop when I see the group of detectives. Nora runs into me from behind and I shoot a look over my shoulder.

Her grin is just this side of sheepish and she says, "Well, you stopped," as if not paying attention to the person you're following is reason enough for nearly knocking me over.

"Wait," she drawls, finally looking over my shoulder to see Georgia, Jesse, Dom and Benny standing in a half circle.

"This better be good," I snap and pinch the sleeve of her coat to tug her along.

"Well," Jesse notices us first and says, "look who decided to show up."

I briefly shut my eyes, chanting a mantra, 'I will not hit, I will not hit, I will not hit,' over and over again. We signed out less than two hours ago. We were at home, soaking in our beautiful tub.

"Oh, Jess," I hear Dom say in a warning tone, "Nik's gonna pop here in two-point-three. Why don't we show them what we've got and then maybe she won't try and shoot us all."

I glare their way and Nora says, "I expect it soon, Barrett. What in the hell warrants dragging all six of us out here in the middle the goddamn night!"

Benny lights up and slips between Nora and me. Slinging his arms across the back of our shoulders he talks, "Well you see my Sapphic sleuths, we had originally called Jess and Georgia, due to a slight conflict of interest. However, upon their arrival they, did what they do so well, and began to detect…"

"Oh, for fucks sake, Armstrong," Dominic snips.

"Could you get to the point, idyo. We'd like to get home before the sun comes up," Jesse added.

"The first vics I.D. was on him when we patted him down before the M.E. got here," Georgia filled in.

"And then I," Jesse puffed up his chest, "remembered the face of our D.B. matching a file that was on your desk." Jesse points to me and I feel my brow furrow.

"Well," Nora gently shoves Benny away and demands, "Let's see'em."

Our coworkers motion over their shoulder and I motion Nora along. May as well get this over with.

The bodies have been marked off; placards for the forensic photographer are in place. From the distance, I see the bodies are side by side. One is on their back and the other on their stomach. Reaching the first body, I notice it's female.

Maybe they moved her to see if they could get her I.D. I also notice the bullet wound they exposed on the back of her skull. The lack of mess tells me it was a small caliber bullet. The man lying next to her is face up. The beam of my flashlight passes over his face. The light glints off a piece of metal in between his lips. Taking a closer look at it, I see it's a coin. The vics face finally registers.

"Shit," Nora hisses.

"I see your 'shit,' sugga, and raise you a 'fuck me,'" I grouse right along next to her.

We hunch down at the same time and look into the lifeless eyes of Chad Stohs, otherwise known as, Jon Helms.

Well, ain't this a bitch.

"How much you wanna bet the girl is his partner in crime?" Nora ticks and I have nothing to say to that.

"Nora," Georgia comes up behind us and sighs, "How you two manage to get your thumb in all the pies is beyond me."

"Oh, trust me Sarte, if you want this pie…" I huff and right myself.

The file Annie sent to Luke was just enough to annoy the hell out of Nora and me. Wanting to be thorough, I go to the girl and look over her visible skin. Noting no visible tattoos, I take her left arm and remove it from underneath her body. Pushing the sleeve of her jacket up, the mark I'm looking for is inked underneath her wrist.

Shit.

I bite my lower lip and I feel Nora's hand on my shoulder.

I drop the wrist and look back up at her.

Her eyebrow is arched and I shrug.

"Beaumont, you okay?" Georgia asks stepping around to the other side of the bodies.

"You sure you don't wanna take this case?" I ask hopefully.

Her lips jut out and she shakes her head. "Not when you two are lookin' like that." Her hands go to her hips and push back her jacket. The beige slacks she has on are getting muddy around the cuff of her boot.

"I'll call Morgan," I offer and stand.

"We need to…" Nora can't manage to say the rest and instead motions behind us to where our other coworkers are.

"Let's talk to Morgan first." I don't want to step in anything more than we have to.

"But you can't say that's why they had to pass it on…" Nora tries to argue.

I shake my head and notice Georgia giving us curious looks. "I won't. I won't muddy waters either, Nora Marie. Come on. Our night just got more interesting than the bath we were sharing."

"Really?" Georgia's incredulous voice sounds behind me as I stalk back towards the team. "Is that really what you two do? I can never get Mike to do things like that…uh, maybe I should…"

I shake my head and hear Nora's bark of laughter. Shooting a look over my shoulder I see her pull Georgia in and whisper something into her ear.

It's hard to see in the dark, but her light brown skin grows a bit darker.

* * *

"Now, before we get into this detective," Jake Morgan clucks on the other end of the phone line, "I had to check security clearance…"

"And why would you need to do that?" I interrupt him, sitting up a little straighter in my chair.

"Because you found me and there are very few ways get to Stohs' file. What I'm curious about is how a detective for the N.O.P.D. has Yankee White clearance with a few addendums tacked on?" I really don't like the sound of his voice. And what the hell is Yankee White clearance?

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I will patience to come. I've been doing that a lot lately.

"Marshall Morgan, while I can appreciate good natured curiosity, I really just would like some background information on your witness. Chad Stohs a.k.a John Helms was murdered last night and is the primary suspect, along with the other body found, Jennifer Kirkpatrick, in a bank robbery and double homicide." Nora catches my eye and I wave her off before snipping, "Your cooperation would be greatly appreciated if you could answer my questions."

Morgan titters in my ear and huffs, "I knew you wouldn't tell me, but hell, why not. What do you want to know?"

"Who is Chad Stohs?" I ask picking up the pen next to the notepad on my desk.

"Stohs was a street punk that got lucky. He started playing gofer to some of the more aggressive members of the Seventh Circle Widows. He was a kid that had two loving parents, but a self destructive streak. He turned state's evidence over to an A.U.S.A. that busted up a human trafficking ring across Michigan, Minnesota, Illinois and Indiana."

I scribble furiously and ask, "Who'd he turn on?"

"Ian Grinton was the leader of the Thirteenth Street Hooligans, a gang that formed in Chicago. Grinton was running some serious bodies from the Canadian border. Chad actually manned up and came forward," Morgan answers.

"And who are the Seventh Circle Widows?" I wonder.

"They're an outfit that started in the Seventies. The gang went national in the early eighties. They like to recruit across color lines, but target underprivileged kids. They start young. Nine, ten years old. Rope kids in as runners, pushers, smugglers and then they move up in ranks. Some of the Widows specialize in drugs, some armed robbery, some smuggling. Depends on where the gang is localized." I hear him take a drink of something and pick right back up. "Their story is a lot like every other gang that's started up. The only thing they don't do, at least from what I know, is kill. While some of them have been tagged with homicide. None that I know of is guns for hire."

"Why?" I ask.

"Dunno. It's not completely uncommon, but it's interesting."

"So Stohs was a runner that was in the wrong place at the wrong time and stepped forward for help," I summarize. "Stohs had a black widow tattooed right below his left ear, on the neck. Jennifer Kirkpatrick had one on the inside of her left wrist…"

"Gang symbol. The Widows always mark their kind. Always on the left side. For the guys it's in one of three places, right below the left ear on the neck, high on the left forearm or on the left hand, back of the palm between index and thumb." I take a sip of my cold coffee and grimace as he pauses. "For the women, it's similar, the neck, the wrist or depending on how slutty the girl is, high on the inside of their thigh."

"Why would it be there?" I ask and scribble some more notes.

"Really it depends. Some girls like it there so that they don't have anything visible. Mostly, those girls, they end up running with the gang because their boyfriend is and they don't plan on doing any…" he pauses and his teeth click before saying, "heavy lifting."

I'm not following. "Heavy lifting?"

"They don't get involved in activity. The girls with the thigh tat are relegated to arm candy and a warm hole. The girls that have it visible, they're a different breed. Meaner, a helluva lot more tough and sometimes more dangerous than the men they run with."

"Most of the gangs I know of don't allow females to do the 'heavy lifting' as you say. Why do they?"

"Dunno, they're just an equal opportunity gang. When the group got its start it wasn't so much concerned about looks. They wanted results. They got them. One of the original members was a girl, Shanyett Cascardo. She's a lifer in California. I suppose, if one of the original members was a girl, why not others, right?" he reasons and I shrug.

I suppose.

"Stohs wasn't supposed to be in New Orleans. His last relocation was for Jacksonville, North Carolina. Look, given what you know and what I've told you, I'd say Stohs wasn't out of the life, ya know? I'd check with your local know it all about gang activity and start from there."

I lean back in my chair and silently agree.

"You never mentioned how Stohs ate it. I'll take a stab in the dark and say Stohs and his gal pal were killed execution style. You probably haven't gotten the results back, but what the reports are going to tell you is that they were on their knees. The executioner was kind. One GSW each in the back of the head. Small caliber bullet." He pauses and finishes up, "The bodies were then moved. Not much, just rolled over on to their back, hands clasped over their waists and a coin inserted between their lips."

"How did…" I try to stop him.

"The coins were gold, more than likely foreign, pounds, English or Scottish in origin and from the eighties," he finishes.

"How did you…"

"Cascardo's doing time because she killed two of her underlings. They crossed her. Went out on their own and tried to do bigger and better. If a Widow is killed, and they're found like that, it's because one of their own did it. The coins are Charon's obolus. They may have crossed the leaders, but Stohs and Kirkpatrick are still Widows."

I rub my forehead and huff, "Well, thanks for the info, marshall."

"No problem, detective. Good luck with the case," he says and disconnects.

I lay the phone in its cradle and see Nora looking at me.

I shake my head and she frowns.

* * *

"When do you two wanna talk?" Benny appears next the left of our desks. His hands are planted firmly as he rests on them looking between Nora and myself. "Beaumont, I heard you talking to the U.S. Marshall." His lips purse when Nora and or myself don't move.

Rolling his eyes, he urges, "You two aren't stupid. Stubborn, more than I think even I know, but not stupid. Let's go chat."

This time he doesn't wait for us. He turns on heel and heads towards an open interview room. Looking back to Nora, she's already up and moving.

Scrambling, I grab my note pad, a pen and my coffee. Cold or not, I need something to keep me going right now.

Benny slips inside room four, the last one along the hall. It's also the one we use to bring in victims' families to talk to which means there's no viewing room. There's no way for someone to overhear. As the last one in, I push the door closed, set my stuff on the end table and lock the door.

The two couches in the narrow room sit opposite each other. Benny's sitting on the arm of the one on the right, his right foot swinging and arms folded across his chest. Nora's eyeing him, cattycorner to him on the left, mirroring his position.

Rolling my eyes at their antics, I huff, "Will you both sit down like normal people."

My eyes narrow as I shoot looks to both of them. Nora's quicker than Benny, but they both slide down the arm and end up sitting like normal people. Making a point, I sit down next to Benny and start in, "So, we have two bodies. Both involved in the Seventh Circle Widows. Marshall Morgan just gave me a rundown of their identifiers."

Eyeing the tattoo peaking out above his shirt collar, I continue, "Which you have."

I don't see Benny redden often, but he does today.

He is and can be a lot of things. In my time at S.C.U., Benjamin Armstrong has never been withdrawn and sullen.

My attempt at trying to give him space is futile at best. I study our coworker, our friend. Noticing the sweat peppering his forehead, the silence stretches.

It forces me to finally ask, "Are you going to fill in the missing pieces here, partner?"

His tongue pokes out and runs along the bottom of his lip. "Sorry, I just…didn't think…you think you've made peace, as much as you can, and well…" He rubs his hands flat against his thighs as his eyes skirt between me and Nora. "Dom's the only one that knows, ladies. I mean…"

I feel my brow contract, bunching up as I watch him stumble. His mouth clamps and his eyes drop to the floor.

The sound of him clearing his throat is loud, but it does the trick in allowing him to continue, "I guess I'll make it short and sweet. I grew up in the East Bay area, San Francisco, California. Dad took off when I was four or so and it was my mom, my sister and me." His shoulders raise and droop. "My mom worked her butt off, but she was a hippy type, we had people staying with us all the time. Some good, some not so good and some…" he clears his throat again and motions with his hands. "I don't think I need to elaborate do I?"

"No," Nora speaks for the first time that we came in here.

His eyes cut to her, mildly surprised. I lay a hand on his knee and say, "Benny, you don't…"

He cuts me off with a shake of his head. "I want to." At my slight nod, he continues, "So right, anyhow, when I got old enough to not be home, to not have to worry about getting beat or…touched, I think I started runnin' around with neighborhood kids when I was seven, eight or so and it just became a thing. The kids that I ran around with became my family, ya know? We looked out for each other."

A wan smile passes over his face and he shakes his head. "We had a few of us that stuck around; some left, new ones came." The smile falters after a few brief moments. "As I got older, my mom's addiction presented itself and she lost her job. We needed money, so I started peddling, dropping off stuff for O.G. Widows. They were tied into a few of the biker clubs that were around and connected to some other people down in L.A. and San Diego."

"Needless to say, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was using socially and we, me and my best friend, were at Cha-Chi's house when some tweaker was too strung out and started shooting the place up. I was zonked, had shot an eight-ball right before it happened. Long of the short is that the judge decided to go easy on me when the dust settled."

I cock my head to the side and he answers me without provocation, "'Cause we were all using, most of us underage, we were given a choice, juvie or rehab. Rehab went to the kids that named names. Juvie for those of us that didn't. My record's sealed. Expunged on my eighteenth, but I got clean and got straight."

He finally looks at me and points to his neck. "I got this when I was thirteen. I keep it to remind myself. When I got out, I had worked enough to have a decent savings. I got my G.E.D. and the day I was released, I threw a dart at a map of the states and ended up here. I haven't left since."

"Do you know anything about the Widows now?" Nora asks.

He shakes his head. "Not really. I don't keep up. They gave me a bit of protection when I was in juvie, but when I got out, I made a clean break. When I saw the tats on the vics bodies, I knew I had to take myself out of the investigation. So, thanks for picking it up."

"Benny," I rub my hand up and down his thigh. His small smile is enough.

"Hey, we're good. I just thought I owed it to you guys. We good?" He covers my hand with his own and gives it a squeeze.

I don't notice Nora until she takes up the cushion on the opposite side of Benny. "So, Armstrong, if you're a bad ass ex-con, how'd you manage the kumbaya detective?"

"A friend of mine in juvie actually, his story wasn't much different than mine. We got started on it together. A lot of my shit…it was…I wasn't settled. I found a path that worked." He winks at us and says, "You should give the meditation a try Delaney, your cranky ass could use with a little bit of mindful meditation."

"I'll do that as soon as you line dance to Jay-Z," Nora retorts, causing Benny and myself to erupt into a fit laughter at the imagery.


	7. Midnight Hands

**Ch. 7 – Midnight Hands**

"Detectives," Dr. Williams greets me and Nikki as we enter his office.

I huff and try for a smile, reminding myself that we have to do this. If I want to work with Nikki, I need to sit here and play ball with the doc.

I steer Nikki with a hand to the small of her back and we take a seat on the larger of the two couches centered in his office. Aged brown leather that looks like its seen its share of grumbling, fucked up cops.

I suppose it could be worse. Dr. Williams is an alright guy. A little vague, but I guess that just comes with the territory.

"Hi," I manage as I tug at my shirt and situate myself.

His smile is warm, inviting.

I know he's not a wolf in sheep's clothing. Our first visit here last month was enough to convince me of it, but…

"Nor," Nik says my name gently and rests her left hand on top of my knee. She gives me a crooked smile and a squeeze.

It has some effect on the tension of my shoulders. They slacken a little and my shoulders loosen up. I take a large deep breath in through my nose and slowly exhale out of my parted lips.

"Sorry," I mumble and set my gaze on a stain in the carpet underneath the coffee table in front of us.

"So, detectives, it's been about a month since we last saw each other. How are things?" he asks crossing his legs and folding his hands over top his bent knee.

"Busy," I offer first because really that's what it's been. Ungodly, insanely busy.

"We've been pretty swamped," Nikki amends and fills in, "Back to back cases, no time off, each of the teams of detectives in our unit have at least two to three cases going right now, so…"

"Ah, yes, I was looking over your log sheets and some copies of your reports…" Williams begins.

"You get that kind of stuff?" I wonder. Why does he need it? I thought we were just here to see how we were "handling" our partnership inside and outside the confines of the force.

"I get everything for every officer that I see. It's pretty standard, Nora, but considering the arrangement that exists between the two of you and your superiors, I like to make sure that I know as much as possible." He gives a little half shrug of his shoulder. "I'm not passing judgment on it or you or your partner…" he lapses and licks his lips, "I really just want to understand what's been going on within your work world. Getting those helps me. Is that okay?"

I shrug.

I guess.

"That's fine," Nikki says for me.

"Excellent." His eyes light up across from us and he says, "I actually have an idea." He stands and moves towards his desk at the back of his office. Not big, but large enough for a computer, phone and two stacks of files. Watching him, he rifles through a small stack in the center and pulls out a small stack of papers paper clipped together.

"Here," he says, handing over the bundle, "That's my assessment of our initial visit last month." I take the offered report and he grins. "I don't usually, but…it's a unique situation. They didn't give me a guide book for this in school."

Nikki leans into me and takes a cursory glance at the report. "I don't think we're allowed to actually see those," she chides.

I glance up from the top page and he smirks, "Well, then, it'll just have to stay between us. I'll make sure you get a copy of each one I submit to Tosano. Deal?"

I raise my left eyebrow. "Why?"

"Why not?" he retorts. "You should be privy to my evaluations. It's nothing I won't say to you face to face."

"Yes, but we really shouldn't see this. Won't this hurt you if it gets out?" Nikki presses.

"It may, but I'm not going to confess and I don't see why either of you would." He takes a breath and leans back against the couch. "Honestly, detectives, if we are going to continue these, and I have strong belief that we will, you need to be able to trust me. I'm here to help alleviate the stressors from work and the stressors work will place on your personal and professional partnership. I was always told that you get what you give."

"So this is your way of saying you trust us?" I venture and then add, "Isn't that a little manipulative?"

"Perhaps, if you're going to be a Cynical Sally, but it wasn't my intent. I would like to think of it as an olive branch." His fingers lazily drum along the back of the couch.

"Dr. Williams," Nikki starts.

"And please, I have a name, Guy, you're both free to use it," he interrupts.

"Guy," Nikki lets the name roll of her tongue and I place the report on my left side. I'll look at it later.

When the conversation lulls, he finally asks, "So, is there anything in particular happening that I should know? Anything you'd actually like to talk about?"

"Nope," I say.

"Not off hand," Nikki says at the same time.

An amused chuckle gently shakes his shoulders and he nods. "I thought as much. Last session we made the cursory introductions, again. You two sniffed me out. It went well, but if I may, would some questions from me be okay?"

I fold my arms over my chest and look to Nikki. She rolls her eyes and bats my arms. "What?" I ask.

Her head dips and she looks up at me, right eyebrow cocked.

"Fine," I unfold my arms and amend, "Can't a girl just sit comfortably?"

"Not when you look like a petulant school girl sitting in the principal's office," Nikki playfully hisses.

Yeah, yeah.

"And, sure, Guy," Nikki waves a hand at him, "Ask away."

"Well, this wasn't my initial question, but what just happened there?" He points a finger between the two of us and waggles it back and forth. "Why don't you want Nora to cross her arms?"

"I'm closed off and stubborn if my arms are crossed over my chest," I say, air quoting 'stubborn' and 'closed off.'

"Do you think you are?" he follows up.

I bite my lower lip and shrug. "Depends."

"Were you just then?" he asks immediately.

I don't look at Nikki but I feel her eyes on me. "A little," I answer honestly, "I mean ̶ it's not like you're going to try and fix me. There's nothing wrong."

His lips press together and he nods. "That's true. I don't think there is, but then again we're not here because there was a shooting, you and your partner assaulted two federal agents or anything else that really has to do with your jobs." His arm drops from the couch and goes to rest on his thigh. "That's what makes this a unique situation."

"It's not as if I was…okay, I was correcting her, but this is part of the deal," Nikki jumps in.

"True, but," Guy pauses and looks between the two of us, "You were correcting her even as she did it. Almost before she moved."

Nikki shrugs, "I live with her, I work with her. We share a home, bed and family."

"What was your first question?" I ask trying to change the topic. Anything would be better than this.

He sucks his teeth and looks at me.

I suppress the sigh. At least he's not dumb.

Which is way more than I can say about the duo from I.A.B. we met with last month, who we meet with this week as the other part of the agreement.

Monthly visits to the shrink and an I.A.B. review of cases worked.

"I wanted to ask…let me preface this by saying that you two aren't the first set of partners that have become romantically involved. However, some things are still a little unclear. You two present with the standard signs of a long term relationship, but you've just only allocutted to your superiors and Nikki, you just said you share a home, bed and family. How long have you two been together?" As he finishes up his long ass question, he shifts on the couch leaning against the arm and propping his head on his fist.

I bite my lips together and wait for Nikki to answer. "Seems like forever," she teases me.

"Sometimes I feel like that with my wife…" Guy agrees.

I snicker.

"Yeah the bad side of forever too," I give it right back to her which causes our shrink to pause.

"Sug, you can leave any time," Nikki leans in to me, "but, it'd make the seven frustrating, wonderful years we've spent together a moot point. You wouldn't give that up, would you? I know how much you love our tub."

I can't help the laughter. It breaks free and our shrink looks relieved.

"We've been together just over seven years…" he looks to our file on the coffee table, to the date we were partnered.

"We got together…" Nikki starts in, but I put a hand on her knee and cut her off.

"We got together, five months and sixteen days to the day we were partnered," I grin.

"Oh," his mouth firms a perfect oh and he scratches his left ear lobe. "Hmmm, so you got together…" he cocks his head to the side and manages, "You've hid it for that long? That's, uh, impressive…"

* * *

"So?" Dan asks, looking up from behind his desk as Nikki and I barrel through his closed door, "how'd Williams go?"

I sink down into my designated seat on the left, Nikki takes the right. She's a little more graceful as she sinks, crossing her legs as she settles.

"Mmm," I grunt lacing my hands over my stomach, stretch my ankles and cross them.

"It went. He's interesting, that much is obvious." Nikki groans arching back and stretching.

"Well, that's just great," Dan tries for supportive, but it falls flat. Much like the first time we went.

To be fair he likes doctors, medical or psychological, less than I do. When we were first partnered, we ended up in the middle of a gang shoot out and were required to go to the department shrink after…

Some B.S. about post-traumatic stress, but it was fine. It wasn't fun; getting shot at from either side of the street, but it could have ended a hell of a lot worse. After the order from our now-retired lieutenant, Dan nearly got suspended because he cancelled the first four appointments.

Nearly got me suspended too.

"So, besides the shrink and your I.A.B. interview tomorrow, what's going on?" Dan finally puts the folder that was in his hand down and focuses fully on us.

"We've got to go back to Angola on Monday, arraignments Tuesday and Wednesday for Noyola and her fantastic piece of man meat, Brewer. With any luck and a few dozen lit candles, they'll go away for a long time."

"You know, collectively, we have what fifty years of police experience in this room and I don't think I've had a case quite like theirs," Dan says, placing his hands on top of his head and frowns.

"Well, times they are a-changin', Harney. The fact that Noyola stood and watched her boyfriend sodomize her best childhood friend is a matter that," Nikki stops and makes a shooing motion with her right hand, "I'm neither educated enough nor sadistic enough to contemplate her actions or state of mind."

"Amen, Beaumont, a-fucking-men. What's going on with the robberies and the homicide you picked up from Felix and Oscar?"

Nikki and I look at each and I shrug. I don't know how much Dan knows.

The question that really needs to be asked is how much does Dan really need to know.

I'm going to go with only the important parts, so I err on the side of caution and keep it simple, "Stohs was in a gang called the Seventh Circle Widows as was the other dead body. Prints place Stohs and his accomplice, which we believe to be Kirkpatrick…well, we haven't anything concrete that puts her there, but it fits. We have a call out to an anthropologist to try and identify and/or confirm that the masked gunman from the bank fits the body type, build and stature of Kirkpatrick."

"So then do we know who executed Stohs and Kirkpatrick?" Dan leans forward, resting his elbows on top of his desk.

Licking her lips, Nikki picks up where I left off, "We think that the killer was actually a member of the same gang. There's history there that pin an M.O. and signature to their killings. I'm getting together with Baird to discuss the Widows gang activity in NOLA and see if we have any top dogs we can shake down."

"And," I chime in reminding Nikki, "Salt gave us the clear to toss Stohs' place and you need to swing by the foundation, Jen's getting whiny on her voicemails."

"And we still have to prep for I.A.B. tomorrow," my lover caps our weekend duties off.

We lead a very glamorous life.

"Well, then ladies, you have your work cut out for you, I suggest you get to it." Dan waves us away and I spring from my seat.

It's Saturday and there's plenty to be done.

As we exit the office, I stop short of our desk and see Bobby sitting with Georgia and Jesse.

Seeing him out of his uniform is going to take some time.

I'm proud of him though.

"Hey Delaney, why didn't you tell us your kind came in something far more friendly than the likes of you," Jesse ribs me as I walk up to the group. "Beaumont, you've been holdin' out on us. That's no fair."

"Now, now, Furlan, my Delaney if fine just the way she is. Just 'cause this one," Nikki leans into my brother and pinches his right cheek, "is as cute as a button, doesn't mean you can't be nice to mine."

I ignore their jibes and focus on my brother. "How are you?"

A grateful smile passes over his features and he nods. "Good. Jesse and Georgia were just showing me a few of the cases. I'm offering up some ideas."

Jesse claps Bobby on the shoulder and beams like a proud papa, "I suspect that when he's done with this rotation, he'll be knockin' Vice on their collective asses."

"Oh," Nikki grins, "You'll probably get stuck workin' under my old partner, Ron Baird. I'm meeting with him over the next few days. I'll be sure to give him a heads up."

Bobby groans as the rest of us laugh at his expense.

Having him around here for a few weeks won't be bad.

"Oh, Nik, mama wants you to call her to give her directions to your dad's place and his number. She said if she's doing Thanksgiving in a new place, she'd like to make a dry run or two."

"This is gonna be a cluster fuck, Nik," I whine and bang my head off Nikki's shoulder.

She just pats the top of my head and laughs.

* * *

The DJ's voice over powers the last few bars of the song that Casey and I are dancing to, "Now, we're going to take this back a minute, to a classic that everyone loves!"

Casey's arms rest on my shoulders, while my hands loosely grip her hips. We're still swaying when the next song comes on, the acoustic guitar is faint, but as soon as the percussion kicks in, Casey throws her head back and laughs.

I sing to her while she spins us around the semi-crowded dance floor, "Well I don't know why I came here tonight, I got the feeling that something ain't right, I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair, And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs…"

Casey joins me for the last three lines of the first verse, "Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right, here I am, Stuck in the middle with you…"

We laugh as she drags me off the dance floor and to the end of the bar. Cass slips behind the counter to grab us drinks. I settle on to a stool for the first time tonight. When she saw me come through the doors, I was dragged on to the floor before we even said hello.

I watch her as she slides a rum and coke my way before she hops over the counter and bounces onto the seat right next to me. Planting a hard kiss to my cheek, she asks, "So to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my favorite detective without my other favorite detective?"

I shrug and take a sip of the drink my friend prepared. "Nikki had to go see Jen at the foundation and I really didn't want to go home, so…"

"Ah, well then, I'm glad you're here. How's things?" she asks, leaning into me.

I rest my cheek on her head and shrug again.

"Nooorrraaaaa," she drawls my name out as she pokes my side.

"Hey, none of that," I warn and try to get away from her bony finger, but unless I want to land my ass on the floor there really isn't anywhere to go.

"Come on, Nor, what's up?" she prods.

I shake my head. "It's nothing really. We had our meeting with the shrink today and we have I.A.B. tomorrow. I didn't like the first and I'm really not looking forward to the second, ya know?"

"Not really," she says as I look down at her smiling face.

"Yeah, yeah. You work in a bar. You don't get investigated by your co-workers to make sure you're mixing the cocktails right," I grouse.

"True. I like being an underachiever. Less pressure. I come and go as I please and the only people I have to answer to are…hell, Nora, even the owners of this place don't ask many questions."

I laugh. "That's because they've known you forever," I remind her.

"True again," she says sticking her tongue out at me.

"So how are you?" I ask and drain the rest of my tumbler.

"Work. Hanging out with Gabby. My life is pretty boring. I come here, serve drinks to the gays and close up. Go home, sometimes to sleep and sometimes to not." She winks at me and I laugh at her, shaking my head.

"Yeah, that libido of yours rivals that of a teenage boy," I tease her.

She's proud of the jibe and beams, "Damn right. I never heard you complain, Det. Delaney."

I shake my head. "I'm blonde, not stupid, Gerard." She pats the top of my head like I'm Mister and blows me a kiss.

"Speaking of," I ask, "how are things with Gabby?"

"Good," she pauses, her brow knits together, "I mean it's…I don't know, I just wasn't expecting her, but we're good."

"Good." I state and cover her hand with mine.

The comfortable silence that settles around us is short lived when her cell starts vibrating on top of the bar. Cass snags it and answers, "Hello…Oh yeah, how are you?..." She bobs her head and continues, "Good, real good actually. Hey I'm actually at work, can I call you when I get done?...Cool, yeah, me too."

She sets her phone down and I glance at the screen. The background for her phone is a profile shot of Gabby. I grab the phone and study the picture…

Shit.

I can't keep the wince off my face when I see the spider tattoo below her ear on her neck.

Just fuck me.

Sighing, I set the phone down and shut my eyes.

"Nor?" Casey questions my sudden mood shift.

I crack one eye open and shake my head. "I'm good, Cas." Licking my lips, I push away from the bar and stand. "Look, Nik should be home soon. I'm gonna let you get back to work."

She stands with me and nods. "Okee doke." I get wrapped in her wiry arms and hug her back. She pulls back and before putting me at arm's length, gives me a peck on the lips. "Love you, Nora. Tell that woman you live with I said hello."

I nod, offering her a squeeze of her hips and a smile in return.

Heading for the door, I gnaw my lower lip and wonder if I should have said something to Cass.

If…

No, I need to talk to Nikki. We can do a background check on Gabby and then decide if I should warn Casey.

Just fuck my life, right now.


	8. Empty Fairytales

**Ch. 8 – Empty Fairytales**

I scrawl my name to the final sheet of the three-inch stack of papers Jen handed me when I got here and breathe a sigh of relief. "Done," I declare, tossing my pen on top of the paperwork.

Jen looks up from her own work, blinking behind tortoise colored, Tiffany and Co. frames. "Good. Now come here." She crooks a finger at me and I flash back to years ago when we were sitting in the den at my daddy's house.

Her beckoning me now is the exact same way that it was then…only this time, I won't be stripping and letting her have her way with me. Even if she's getting prettier as she ages. Her honey blonde hair is soft and thick; her oval face shows faint lines that enhance her high cheek bones and easy smile.

Quirking an eyebrow at her, she sends me a wink and says, "I want you to look at this proposal."

Shaking my head, I stand and stretch, feeling my lower back pop.

I really should get back to the chiropractor this week. I'm in dire need of an adjustment.

Relaxing, I saunter over and plop down next to Jen in the aged, black leather sofa. Realizing for the first time tonight that my casual look is nowhere near complimentary to the black pencil skirt and cream silk blouse Jen has on, Nora's been influencing my wardrobe choices entirely too much the past few months…

Or it could be the fact that neither of us has been able to drop off the dry cleaning.

She leans back and we rest together shoulder to shoulder before she hands me off the papers she was looking at. "This is a request for the foundation. A group of Tulane students along with two academic advisors are looking to start up an outreach center on campus for LGBTQ students."

"The university doesn't have something already?" I ask letting my eyebrows knit together. Tulane's huge and for them not to have something like that…

Jen's answer is a shake of her head. "Apparently, the school's not looking to fund something like that, so they're working towards grants and private donations to get something together. Everything they've got is in that stack." Jen shrugs and stretches out her legs, letting the heel of her left foot slip from the pump to rest on top of the coffee table.

"Alright, well, I'll have a look at this sometime this week. Do we have enough in the budget?" I wonder and mirror her position except for shoes; my sneaker knocks into the top of her pump.

"The last meeting Tia and I took together says that we may have enough for one more project, there's one more benefit for the foundation at the end of the year, which you are supposed to spearhead," she looks at me from the corner of her eyes and lifts her eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm on top of that," I lie. I'm really not.

Licking her lips, she smirks. "Right and I'm taking up golf, but don't side track me. There was the half-million dollar check that came through that I'm waiting to get final approval to cash – damn anonymous donations."

"Fine," I admit, "I haven't even started on it, but I'll put something together before the end of the week, promise. Make sure to do a bit of digging on that check. Not that I'm not grateful, but…"

"I'll take care of it, ma'am, you just secure the venue and give me a theme, I'll work out the rest of the scheduling and we can put Tia and Jake on it," she offers.

I don't even have to think about it. I nod readily. "Consider it done."

"Good, now, did I tell you about Heath Rourke and the disastrous affair at the last league party to which you RSVP'd and never showed?" Her question is punctuated with a bony elbow to my side.

Glaring at her, I shake my head. "I'm sorry, but murder takes precedent over getting dolled up and playing nice with the vultures. I take it Christine won't take him back?"

Jen shakes her head, "He's been a dog since they've separated and really, is it any wonder? She was seeing Jeff Wiley on the side while he was diddling Jamie Bretter's mother…"

"Ruth Bretter's near twice his age!" I howl with laughter.

She covers my left knee with her hand and laughs along with me. "Oh, darling, I know and you think he'd have some shame, but oh, no. He saunters into the hall in this…the suit really wasn't bad, but he had this yellow, silk shirt on underneath a blue jacket. It really wouldn't have been so bad if he'd have buttoned up, but didn't."

I grimace. Heath Rourke is a medium height, pompous, hairy jackass. "How bad was it?"

"The bear skin rug your daddy has in the sitting room has less hair than his chest. I swear to God Nikki, if I wasn't sure of my orientation prior to last Wednesday…I kind of threw up in my mouth a little."

I double over as my body shakes with laughter. Tears sting the corner of my eyes and I let them fall. Oh, I wish I could have seen that. Jen's laughing just as hard and leans over with me. Clutching on to her arm, we let the mental image entertain us.

"Uhm, Nik…"

My head snaps up and I see Nora standing in the doorway, her left hand on the door knob and her right on her hip. The grey top she put on this morning more rumpled than when she pulled it from the dresser and her slacks are showing more wear than they should. I'm going to have to take her shopping soon.

I grin at her though. I wasn't expecting her to show up tonight. I thought she was going to Phantoms to blow off a little steam.

"Hi, sug," I greet her, untangle my hand from Jen's and give her a little wave.

"Nora, nice to see you this evening," Jen's goes for cordial, but the way Nora's looking at us…

Oh for Pete's sake.

"Come in and have a seat," I pat the spot next to me, but she doesn't budge.

"I, uh," she stutters, licking her lips, "I, uh, I need to talk you about the Stoh's case."

"Hmm," Jen grunts as she rights herself, "I'll take that as my cue." She begins to gather her things, stuffing them into her bag. "Nik, I'll need to know about the proposal in your hand and the fund raiser before the end of the week. We'll catch up more later." She leans down and pecks my cheek before slinging her bag over her shoulder, brushing past Nora and disappearing.

Nora's gaze follows her past the point of my vision before she finally comes into the office and shuts the door.

I watch her move, a little stiff, a little tired, over to me and take the spot Jen just left. "Nora?" I question.

"I think we may have a problem…"

* * *

"Well, howdy partner," Ron greets when he opens up the door to his home. I can hear the chatter from the T.V. in the back…it sounds like Sports Center. "To what do I the honor?"

I give a slight shove to his right shoulder, pushing him back so I can get inside. "I need some information, sugga, and you are the answer man, so here I am."

He shuts the door and then grabs me from behind to give a squeeze. I giggle and arch my neck back to plant a kiss on his scruffy cheek. He lets me go and I ask, leading us into his living room, "How's things?"

I take the recliner left of the T.V. and leave his favorite spot open for him to sit down. He plops in his chair and shrugs. "Brandy's off visiting her sister in Memphis. I've got the house to myself and have no idea how to behave."

I look at the coffee table and see the half eaten pizza and beer bottles. "Baird, what in the hell am I going to do with you?"

"Can't change the stripes, Beaumont. I'm a creature of habit," he smiles at me and winks.

"Ain't that true for all of us?" I tease.

He scoffs, "Shit, then you need to let one of my D's know. This backwater gator chaser can't seem to fill out any, and I mean any, of his shit the same way twice."

"Oh," I tease, "poor, little Baird, can't straighten out his team."

He grumbles, "Yeah, well, just remember it took me forever to train your ass too, Nik."

"Touché, old timer, touché." I kick back in the chair and enjoy being around Ron again. We don't get together as much as I'd like. Despite our recent lunch date, it's been more than two months since I saw him.

"So, where's my girlfriend?" he asks, kicking out the ottoman from under the recliner. I watch him stretch and lace his hands behind his head, the undershirt he's wearing strains against his round, hard stomach.

"She's off having a chat with her friend, Casey. You remember her?" I ask.

He gnaws on his lip and then nods. "Yeah, little girl, bartender, right?"

I nod while he goes to sit up. "Shit, where are my manners, Nik. You want anything to drink? I got beer and uh…" he pauses scratching the top of his head. I can see the mental inventory of the fridge ticking off in his head. "I think I just got beer and water."

"Sit down. I'm fine; besides, I know where the kitchen is." I wave him down and watch him settle back into his seat.

"Damn right you do, but Brandy'd kill me for being a bad host. So, then what's going on? I hear you guys have been hammered over in S.C.U., how are you holding up?"

"We're swamped, I forget what time off actually is and I miss my home. You know how it is…"

"Yep," he agrees.

"And what is up…?" I drum my fingers across the top of my thigh and wonder where to start. "Well, Nora and I've got a doozey of a case and I'm trying to get as much information as I can on a gang, Seventh Circle Widows, at the local level. Can you help your old partner out?"

He draws in a deep breath, the air being sucked in through his nose, before exhaling and answering, "They mainly go by 'Seventh Circle' around here, but yeah, they've been creepin' higher on my radar over the past coupla years. You want to elaborate or you just want the down and dirty so you can go save the day?" He smirks at me.

I roll my eyes.

"Down and dirty, Baird, you know how like it," I purr and see the blush creep up his neck.

"Fine, spoil my fun," he finally recovers. "They aren't a big outfit around here, but they can cause waves when they want. The group as a whole, relatively low key. They mess with some of the more troublesome groups, cut in on territory, take away business here and there, but it's all word of mouth shit. I can't get anyone to roll on a Widow to save my life."

"That normal?" I wonder.

His lips pinch and he shrugs. "Yes and no, I mean most of the time the thugs stick to the rule of snitches get stitches, but you can usually find a weasel somewhere. I haven't found one yet on this group. Like I said, they're small, they keep operations below the radar and most of the street-chatter."

"So they're a pretty tight group?" I prod, "Don't rely on much outside help?"

"That's my thought. I mean usually if a group's moving product, there's certain people here that know, but these guys…" he chews on his lower lip.

"You collar any of them?" I ask.

He nods. "Yeah, but it's misdemeanor violations, holding, possession, solicitation. You think they're gonna cause problems?"

I lick my lips before I answer, "Two of their members were murdered a couple of days ago. The issue is a little more complex due to one, the vics are responsible for armed robbery and two counts of homicide," I start a tick list and hold up my index finger then add my middle to it and continue, "second, the male vic was in WitSec," my ring finger is added to the other two, "three, apart from being members of the gang, Casey's current squeeze seems to be sporting a neck tat for them as well."

His eyebrows disappear under a lock of hair that falls across his forehead. He whistles and asks, "Anything else?"

"There's more, but that's a high level overview. I'm just trying to figure out how to go about this. From what the U.S. Marshall responsible for Stohs, our male vic, said, he and the other vic were killed by someone from the Circle."

"Execution style, laid out all nice like with a coin between the lips?" he ventures.

I tap the tip of my nose with one index finger and point with the other. "Got it in one."

My hands drop to my lap and I watch him mull over the information. He gnaws the inside of his cheek while the two caterpillars he calls eyebrows bunch over his nose. He clears his throat after a minute and theorizes, "Maybe that's why they were iced, ya know?"

I just raise an eyebrow.

"Well," he coughs again, "Seventh Circle's, like I said, low key. Armed robbery?" He shakes his head. "That really isn't their style. Maybe they were taken out 'cause they went against the group."

"You think they went too far?" I wonder.

"Maybe, I mean, it makes a bit of sense, sends a clear message to the other members of the gang…"

"The 'don't fuck up' message," I pick up his train of thought.

"That'd be the one. What are you gonna do about Casey and her squeeze?"

I shrug. "That's what Nora's going to find out. Gabby, the squeeze," I grin at the term, "she's got a widow tat right under her left ear. She's also got a bunch more so I don't know if its gang affiliated or just dumb luck."

"You think Nora going to talk to 'em's a good idea?"

"She…we want to protect Cass and by extension Gabby if I have to. It might not be a 'good' idea, but it's the right one."

* * *

"Nora!" I call out as I enter our home.

My shout is met with silence.

I close and lock the door then move to the kitchen to deposit my purse, car keys and jacket. I cock my head to the side and listen. Faintly, I hear music playing upstairs and go off in search of my lover.

Quietly, I take the steps two at a time and peek around the corner to the sitting room.

No Nora.

The bathroom door is cracked and that's where the music is coming from…

I didn't earn that pretty gold shield at my hip for nothing.

I push gently on the door and see the top of her head resting on the edge of the tub. She sings a little off key to Corrine Bailey Rae's debut album.

My lips quirk up in a grin as Nora fails to keep up with the smoky, melodic voice. I'll give her an 'A' for effort at least.

"Nora?" I finally speak up.

Her head snaps up and water sloshes over the side of the tub. Mister's head pokes up from the other side of the bathroom. "Jesus, Nik!"

Laughing, I come to the side of the tub, look down at her and smile. "I called out when I got in, but you didn't…"

"Sorry," she ducks her head sheepishly, "I just needed to…"

I nod and watch as she sits up, causing the suds to slide down her front to expose the top of her breasts. She notices where my gaze is locked on to because the next thing I feel is water hitting my face.

"Hey," I protest and mop the drops of water off that she flicked at me. "Behave."

Her tongue plants itself in her cheek and she just gives me a look, coquettish, if I were pressed to describe it.

"You can stand there and drool or you can get in so I can drool too," she offers with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"Sug that might be the best damn offer I've gotten this week." I start immediately and toe off my sneakers, kicking them towards the shower stall.

I keep my gaze trained on Nora and appreciate how she's biting her bottom lip. "You want to help?" I ask.

She moves to take me up on the suggestion, but then settles back down and shakes her head. "Yeah, but I want to know what you know before I let my libido take over. Information first, sex second."

I laugh and finish disrobing. My layers peeling off and getting tossed near where my shoes were kicked. I'm about to get in when Nora coughs and points to the floor. I look down wondering what she's looking at when the fact that I didn't take my socks off registers.

Blushing, I raise my left foot first and tug the black ankle sock off, the right one follows soon after and I step into the luke warm water. Nora thinks ahead though and hits the drain to let off some of the water as I settle down on the other side of the tub. Our legs tangle together, my right slips between her bent knees and I sigh.

Smooth skin slides against mine as I rest my head back in a similar fashion to how I found my partner. A foot slides over the outside of my right thigh and rubs. "Hmmm," I hum.

I keep my eyes closed as Nora asks, "So, what did you learn?"

"Seventh Circle's low key in the area. Misdemeanor busts, nothing serious. Ron was shocked that two of their members got popped. He did think that they were because of the robbery. He thinks it was supposed to be a message to the other members to not step out of line," I reply succinctly.

"Hmm, that actually makes a fair bit of sense," she agrees.

"You?" I ask as I roll my neck, stretching some of the tense muscle.

"Cass was quiet. She let Gabby talk and with that woman, it was more of what she didn't say than what she did. I think she's involved with the gang, I don't think she had anything to do with Stohs or Kirkpatrick."

I finally open my eyes, raise my head and look at her. "Really?"

"Yeah, I mean she…she wasn't saying everything, but I read enough of her to convince me that she didn't or doesn't have a hand in the robbery or the four dead bodies," Nora answers and then crooks her finger at me, beckoning me into her open arms.

Unable to resist, I slide around as gracefully as I can in the confined space as she pulls me backwards. My back is met with warm, pliant flesh as her arms wrap around my waist and legs tangle with mine.

"Hmmm," we both hum and I rest my head on her wet shoulder. I really should have put my hair up, but…

Oh, well.

Our breathing finds a rhythm and I melt against her.

"This, my dear, is heaven," I purr and turn my head to nuzzle into her neck.

"I can make it better," she husks and I feel her hand slide further down my body and slip between my thighs.

Using only her index finger, she parts me and I let my legs fall open to accommodate. A dull pulse begins low between my legs and she teases me. Her finger slithers around, up and down, but never actually touching where I want.

It's strikes me as she whispers, "Play with your nipples," that it's been a little too long since I've felt my Nora like this. The interrupted bath was cuddles, both of us a little too exhausted to engage in anything more risqué.

I do comply with her demand though. I take her left hand and lace it with mine to play with one nipple while I reach back with my left hand, cup her neck and draw her to me for a kiss.

Our lips meet, part and her tongue runs along mine.

It's then that she finally gets down to business and begins a slow assault on my clit. She brushes over it and around it, creating a pattern with the tip of her finger. A heated slickness coats the inside of my thighs as my arousal ratchets up.

I should be taking this a bit slower, but…

I know it's only been a week or two, it feels like ages since the last time we made love and I can't control the way my body's reacting to her.

Her mouth breaks away from mine in favor of drawing in a ragged breath.

Growling, I attack her neck instead, licking and sucking at any piece of her I can reach.

Her own rumble vibrates through my back and she presses forward, her hips grinding against my ass. "Nik," she moans

"Shh," I manage between nibbles, "please, baby." I can feel her own need coating my ass as she slides against me. "I love how wet you still get for me, sugga."

She groans and I feel the burn high in my tummy. My muscles tense as she presses more firmly around my clit and I let go, relishing the way the orgasm ripples though me and into her. I feel her own release gush along my backside and she trembles against me.


	9. Chamber the Cartridge

**Ch. 9 – Chamber the Cartridge**

"I think," Nikki grumbles around the steaming cup of coffee in her hands, "that we should have stayed in bed for at least a little bit longer."

Wiggling, I settle onto the couch and open my arms for her to snuggle into my side while she gripes and wakes up. It's not like I didn't want to stay in bed either, but we have a lot to do today, I.A.B. at nine a.m. sharp, that should take us at least two to three hours to get through if the last month's meeting was anything to go by.

On top of that, Nikki scheduled us both for requals at one this afternoon.

We still need to figure out what we're going to do with this case…which is why I dragged us out of bed at six. We need to think, talk, prepare.

I really need to get a better idea of where her head is at.

I know she likes Cass, they aren't best friends, but I know they'll hang out together without me. I know Nik also likes going to someone to bitch about me that isn't someone from work or our families.

I just don't know how she's going to handle it if Gabby is involved.

I also don't know how I'm going to handle it and what will happen between Cass and me.

Kissing the top of Nikki's head, I mumble into her hair, "I know. Sleeping more would have been nice, but we've got a busy day and we need to talk before we get bent over by I.A.B."

"Hmm," she grunts, "pains in my ass."

I snicker and smile.

Right there with ya, babe.

"We need a plan," I think out loud and take a sip of my own morning fix.

"Plan?" Nikki questions me, resting her head in the crook of my neck as her feet stretch out to dangle over the arm of the couch. "For I.A.B.?"

"Nope," I shake my head. "For this stupid cluster of a case. We need to talk to someone that knew Stohs and Kirkpatrick."

"Nothin' goin when we tossed their places," Nikki supplies unhelpfully.

"Luke should have their phone records today. We should get something off of that. I just think it's weird that they didn't make some impact or talk to any of their neighbors."

I feel Nikki give a small shrug. "Stohs was in WitSec or supposed to be at least. I don't think the program fosters personal relationships. I'm really not too shocked."

"What about talking to the Widows' leader?" I suggest and bite my lower lip.

"Don't have a name. Ron said that he'd try to talk one of his C.I.'s and see if they have information that we can start working from, but…"

"I don't think their leader'd be helpful either. Although, it may shake them up a little. People get nervous when we start sniffing around," I say and prop my feet on the coffee table.

I get a swat to my thigh and immediately lower my bare feet from the table.

"Thank you and if they get nervous, one of them's bound to catch a case of the stupids." Nikki removes my arm from around her shoulder and sits up, swinging her legs to the floor so she can twist around to face me. "Nor, we could go through Gabby…"

I shake my head. "No, no way."

"But, if she is…" my lover tries to but in.

"IF she is involved with the Widows then we have a whole other set of problems, Nik." I stab my chest and remind her, "I was romantically involved with a potential material witness, Nikki. You think I.A.B. would turn a blind eye to that? It puts the case, not mention our jobs, at risk if we involve her and we don't need to 'cause if she's involved, Cass will be too. You know how she gets."

Nikki gives me a sour look and pouts. "What if we give it to Georgia and Jesse?"

I take the right corner of my lower lip and chew.

Maybe…

"Do we have enough to pass on just yet?" I wonder.

I watch my partner run a hand back through her hair, tug at a handful of it and shake her head.

The fingers on my left hand drum across the arm of the couch cushion. We've got a big stinking pile of dead ends. A potential informant that we can't really go to and uh, I glance at the clock, an hour before we need to start getting ready.

Right.

Sighing, I look up at Nikki seeing that she's just about as fresh out of ideas as I am.

That really doesn't help.

At all.

She works her jaw, her tongue rolls around and causes her cheek to protrude. She's thinking about something.

"Alright," she starts then stops, swallowing before she picks back up, "Darius is over at the House today. Let's swing by there on our way to our meeting with I.A.B. I don't think he'll have a name but I'm sure there will be someone that he can point us to…"

"If not?" I interrupt her, compelled to at least ask that question.

She shakes her head. "Why don't we burn that bridge if it comes to? I'd rather see if we can get something from Darius and go from there. If, and it's a big if, he can't help us out here, then we catch Jesse and Georgia up to speed and let them go question Gabby."

She sets her own coffee cup on the table, reaches for mine and places it next to hers before she laces our hands together. "We'll do what we have to, Nora, we'll protect Cass, if we can, as much as we can."

I swallow around the building lump in my throat and nod.

"I'm not going to risk everything we've done the past few years to protect us and our jobs though. If we play it smart, we'll be fine."

"And Cass?" I manage thickly.

"She's a smart girl, baby. I trust her enough to know that if Gabby's involved, she isn't."

I search her bright, brown eyes for any hesitancy or dishonesty.

All I see is Nikki.

And she's right.

Above all else, even if I don't protect myself, if anything happens, I need to make sure she'll be okay.

Nik comes first.

That thought alone settles the unease that's blanketed me since seeing Casey's phone. Keep my priorities in line, Nikki, Family, work and all else comes in a distant second.

"Okay," I finally agree. I lean forward and rest my forehead against that of my lovers. Breathing in and letting the air out slowly, I say, "I'm on board."

"Good," she whispers and reaches out with her lips to peck mine.

"Do I have to say 'I love you' now?" I mumble.

She shakes our heads. "Nope, you can come shower with me and show me instead."

I feel her eyebrows wiggle against me and I laugh.

Of course.

"Fine," I say, pushing her away and off the couch. I stand with her and take her hand to lead her up the stairs teasing her, "You really are the most demanding woman and I have a sneaking suspicion you're just in this for the sex."

That earns me a swat to my ass, but she doesn't deny it.

* * *

"Rashad! Pick your feet up, son, move!" Darius shouts from the sidelines of the basketball court.

Nikki and I hang back and watch the kids play while Darius…

Shouts.

The kids, ten total, are running a full court game. Five of the kids have blue mesh shirts on and the others are in grey t-shirts. All of them are wearing black shorts.

They seem to be having a good time.

Since Dan started volunteering here with the kids, he's organized and managed an intramural league for the kids that come here for various purposes, interim housing, tutoring, after school programs to keep them off the streets. I swing in and do what I can when I can, but the man that's sort of stepped up when Dan's not able to is Darius and Patrick.

He's helping here at the House and another youth shelter that Nikki does fundraising for. Chris convinced his boss at Sony to help fund part of the house and music program and I know Darius has his thumb in that pie as well.

"Jessica, 'D' up!" Darius' right hand smacks his forehead and he shakes his head. "Tajon it's called a screen!" He shakes his head before bringing the whistle dangling around his neck up to his lips and blows.

The shrill alarm halts all the activity on the court and Darius jogs out to the right side of the court. I tune him out as he starts to position and instruct the kids.

"He can be a little scary," I stage whisper to my partner.

Nikki just laughs and shrugs. "It's actually way too early for him to be up. You know he hates to be up before ten and it's," she looks down at her watch and back up at me, "just before eight. He can't be happy."

"Chssss," I hiss and playfully add in a thick Louisiana drawl, "Al' dat new fangl' music, keepin' da chil'ren out 'till all dem hours. Cryin' shame."

"Oh, heaven help me," Nikki swats at my arm and giggles.

"Come on, you know you liked it?" I poke at her and wiggle my eyebrows.

Our laughter draws the attention of the kids and Darius on the court, 'cause the next thing I feel is Rashad wrapping me up in a hug around my waist.

"Nora! Nikki!" he yells into my abdomen. "Help," his voice drops as he lets me go and looks up between Nikki and me, "he's cranky today."

This earns a snort from my lover as I run my hand over the top of Rashad's head and give it a shake. I pull it away and realize that probably wasn't the smarted thing, considering he's covered in a fine sheen of sweat. The evidence of his exercise is slick against my palm…

Hmmm.

I look around and realize that I'm sunk.

Discreetly, I run my palm down my thigh and greet Darius as he trots up, "_Kouzin',_ Nora, what brings ya'll by on this fine mornin'?"

Nikki sends the man an award winning smile and shrugs her right shoulder.

"Ah, it's one of _those_ social calls. A'right, give me a minute," he says and holds up his finger before spinning around to the group of kids. "Everyone, we're on a break. Take fifteen and be back here ready to play like you want to win."

The kids scamper off, no doubt heading inside to the House's kitchen.

"You comin' Rashad?" Jessica, a sinewy blonde hollers for the boy.

"Yeah," he hollers right back and offers us a wave before sprinting after his friend.

"So," Darius says as the door to the back closes and raises his eyebrows.

"Yep," I say and slide my left hand in the left hip pocket of Nikki's jeans.

Darius and I stare at each other, waiting for one of us to give in, but Nikki puts a stop to our little game and says, "You two are worse than those kids that just left. Darius, we have business."

He huffs and I break the staring contest by shooting a grin at my partner. She rolls her eyes and leads us to a bench set back behind the bleachers of the basketball court.

I finally take my hand out of Nikki's pocket, only to have it taken away from me as she laces her right hand with my left and sets us down. Darius takes up the spot next to me, leaving me in the middle.

"Did you hear about the Widows that were found over off Walker Loop?" Nikki asks, looking around me to Darius.

"Lemme guess, those two belong to you and you need what from me?" he asks folding his arms over his chest.

"From what we know, there's a good chance it was someone from the Widows that pulled the trigger," I answer and bump his shoulder, "We know a good bit about the group as a whole. What seems to be eluding the police is the name of the Widows' leader. Do you know?"

He shakes his head, rattling the beads at the end of his braids and frowns.

"Darius," Nikki sings.

"No, _kouz'_, ya'll don't get to give me that tone. The only thing I know is that they ain't a group you want to start messin' with." He points a finger at Nikki and then at me. "You two got a tendency to be a little froggy when you're back up in it." He shakes his head again. "If the Widows capped two of their own, trust me there was a reason."

I look at Nikki, silently asking her if disclosing everything is a good idea. It's actually a manipulative move but…

"There's more Darius," I look him in the eye and say, "There's a good chance Casey's wrapped up in this somehow. We need to protect her."

"Damnit," he hisses and growls, "I told her to stay away from that woman." He jabs a finger in my shoulder and says, "Ya know, it's all your fault. She wouldn'ta gone after Gab if it weren't for you and those dumb ass…"

"Hey," I try to cut in on his tirade.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Nikki does shut him up, "What the hell are you talking about?"

Rolling his eyes, he snips, "I met Gabby the first night she came to town. We were playin' at Phantoms. Recognized the tat right away and tried to warn Cas off, but they're old friends." Darius shrugs and raises his arms. "What are you gonna do with that?"

"Can you help?" I ask lowering his hand from in front of my face.

His eyes narrow and skirt between Nikki and me. Sighing, he answers, "Sometimes I hate you both. Causin' all this worry in the pit of my stomach. Seventh Circle isn't something you guys want to be messin' with, but if you really are going to go down that road, the only cat that I know that deals with them is Larry Dimmick. He'll be at White's Pawn Shop just getting ready to open."

* * *

"There it is," Nikki points to my right just as I spot the sign to White's Pawn Shop. I coast past it and look for a parking space.

We have forty–five minutes before we need to be downtown at Central.

"Maybe we should wait until we get done with I.A.B.," I worry.

I'm not sure how long this is going to take, but if Dimmick does say something of use, which I highly doubt, what's to say he won't tip anyone.

"Chances are he'll keep shut. I just want to try." Nikki points out a spot a block up from the shop and I pull up behind a rusty Honda Civic. "What's wrong?"

Killing the engine, I look over at my partner, shrug and bite my lip. "I don't know. I just think that…"

I shake my head. "You know, you're right, let's just get this over with so we can go get our asses handed to us because I didn't fill out a form right and I.A.B. can claim our relationship interferes with our ability to properly perform our job and split us up."

Nikki's eyebrow quirks at my outburst and the smirk rises on her lips. "They won't do that."

"You know that how?" I snip and grip the steering wheel.

She snorts. "'Cause we all know that you're the biggest stickler for paperwork the N.O.P.D. has ever seen. Sugga, why do you think I let you do mine?"

"You hate it," is the first answer that springs from my lips. The second, "You're lazy," I tease.

"Hey now," she warns and pokes a finger in my direction.

I shake my head and try to let some of the apprehension for this morning roll off my shoulders.

It doesn't really work.

The anxiety sits square and heavy on my back, but I get out of Frankie anyhow.

I meet Nikki on the side walk and adjust my holster, making sure that my badge is visible on my hip.

The traffic is pretty heavy this morning, but the sun won't come out to play. It's hidden behind thick grey clouds. Beams of sunlight barely poke through some of the layers causing a grey tint over the morning's activity.

We stop at the intersection to the pawn shop's block and wait for the signal. I keep a finger pressed on the crosswalk button until it beeps and the light indicates we can cross.

We're an alcove away from our destination, Nikki on my left closest to the building when I notice the beige Yukon rumbling down the street. The only reason it catches my attention apart from the other flow of traffic is its speed.

It ambles down the street, but slows and stops right before we reach the shop's front door. The blacked out windows aren't a street legal shade of tint. Nikki's halfway through the door when the windows of the Yukon roll down and two muzzles light up the interior.

Fuck.

I pull Nikki down before she even notices what's going on.

The automatic gunfire deafens the morning traffic.

Glass shatters. Bullets ping.

I can't feel Nikki next to me as we hug the cold, grimy concrete.

"Nik!" I shout with my eyes still clamped shut.

I feel a leg hit my hip and try to open my eyes, but the glass is still falling.

I hear metal groan.

The shower of gun fire ceases right before I feel air brush past my face and something crashes to the sidewalk.

I look up, peaking through my hair and see the metal window frame twisted and broken laying an inch from wear my head's at.

"Nora," Nikki shouts.

"Fine," I croak back before the squeal of tires cuts off anything else that I was going to say.

I snap my head towards the street and see the Yukon take the corner we just crossed on two wheels.

Unthinking, I spring from my position on the ground and take off after it. Gun already drawn, I turn the corner blindly and see the Yukon disappear down a side street.

"FUCK!" I yell as Nikki comes up right behind.

"Nora?" Nikki grips my shoulders, spinning me towards her, "Are you okay?"

Unthinking, I nod and wipe at the perspiration snaking down my forehead with the back of my hand.

"No, you're not," my partner proclaims as she takes hold of my hand and shows me the blood.

I don't care so much about that. I care about the scrapes and bloody smears across the backs of Nikki's hands.

"You?" I grunt.

"From the glass, come on," she says pulling me back towards the pawn shop.

Her gun's drawn, as is mine, when we enter the shop and she calls out, "N.O.P.D!"

There's a weak groan behind a shattered display case.

My gun's holstered and I'm calling for backup as we round the corner and see an older black guy laying in a pool of blood.


	10. A Just Reparation

**Ch. 10 – A Just Reparation**

The nurse dabs antiseptic over the cuts, scrapes and puncture marks on the backs of my hands. They pulled a few pieces of glass out of the larger cuts and glued a gash on the back of my wrist shut.

Comparatively, this drive-by ended as well as I could have hoped for.

Although, it doesn't escape this dear southern belle's attention that the twists my life's taken are at the very least hazardous to my continued existence and for those that I care about.

I grunt and the nurse looks up at me, apologizing, "Sorry, it shouldn't be much longer."

I offer a curt smile.

I'll let her think that the little bit of discomfort she's providing is the source of my blustering.

"How big is that needle?" Nora's squeak draws my attention across the room towards the gurney she's sitting on. They made her change into a purple scrub top and the doctor standing next to her with a tray of needles and sutures looks less than impressed with Nora's staunch refusal of treatment.

"Miss," the doctor starts.

I wince before Nora even opens up her mouth. Poor kid.

"Now look here, doc," Nora snaps, poking the woman in the shoulder, "I'm fine. Hearing's good. The scrape's stopped bleeding. Sign the papers and get us out of here."

Muscles ripple under the smooth skin of her jaw and I know how close she is to getting both of us in a tub of boiling oil. Gently, but quickly, I push the nurse away and hop off my own gurney.

"Nora," I cut in on the staring match between doctor and patient. Her narrowed green eyed gaze cuts to me and she softens, not a lot, but her neck smooths out, the vein that was present disappearing under one of my favorite areas of her body.

I step between the doctor and my partner, but touch neither of them. "Maybe we should get that stitched up. If it cracks open or something, I don't want to have to come back here." I try for reason, hoping that her concern for my needs will sway her in taking care of herself.

She looks me over, then at the tray and then over my shoulder, giving the poor doctor the stink eye before resting her gaze once again on me. The same finger she used to jab the doctor's shoulder gets pointed my way. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Nicollette."

I wink at her knowing I've won. I dip my chin and turn back to the doc. "I'd hurry up with those stitches if I were you, ma'am. She's liable to bite."

The doctor, I look at the hospital I.D. badge and note the name, Denise Cooper, she looks a little alarmed. "Go on," I urge, "I'll keep her in line."

The doctor nods and steps around me when Nora grouses, "Let's get this over with."

Two sharp raps on the door draw our attention and Dan steps in. "Ladies, how are we doing in here?"

He shuts the door behind him and sends me a look at Nora's grunt. Nodding, our boss gets down to business, "I.A.B.'s here. I'm not sure…"

"They can come in if they want, I'm sure they couldn't care less that we were involved in a shooting today. I know…" Nora snaps as the first stitch to her brow is given.

"Nora," Dan warns for me. "They actually want to talk about the shooting. It's Chicaroo and Kesley so, they told me your review can be rescheduled to later this week."

Nora hisses, but manages a decent tone, "Hell, I might have to thank them. Did you guys pull anything from Traffic and how's the vic?"

"That's what I wanted to talk you guys about and Dimmick's in surgery. His daughter's on her way," Dan says pulling up a stool by Nora's gurney. "Traffic pulled plates, which are stolen by the way, but the vehicle itself, is registered to a Shaunte Brooks."

The name doesn't mean anything to me. The absent look on Nora's face says the same thing.

Dan smirks, "I thought as much, but I'm sure Darren Brooks does mean something."

No way…

"You've got to be kidding me," I snap. "That stupid sonuva…"

"I should have shot his ass at the damn junk yard the last time I saw…" Nora titters off.

"Wow," the doctor finally says something, "aren't you supposed to be the good guys?"

The three of us snicker.

"You'd want to shoot him too," Nora grumps as the doctor cuts the extra thread from Nora's stitches.

"You survive two drive-bys that he's been associated with and tell me how you feel after," I snip and cut a look to Dan. "What next?"

He smooths his pants legs and stands. "Armstrong and Barrett are headed over there to keep an eye on the place, while I try to secure an arrest warrant." He licks his lips and looks between Nora and me. "I think you two should head home."

"Like hell," Nora and I say at the same time.

"Try again, Harney," Nora hops off the gurney as soon as Dr. Cooper finishes securing the bandage to Nora's brow. "If we're going after him, we better be with the unit making the arrest."

"So what, you can go after him yourself, detective?" Dan snaps right back.

"Fuck going after him, I want his ass in a goddamn cell!" Nora steps up to Dan, their noses almost touching, before I put a hand over her bicep and tug her back. She pulls away from my touch and goes back to Dan. "I want in on it."

"_We_," I correct her, "want in on it."

"Sara," Dr. Cooper directs the nurse that we completely forgot about, "Why don't we leave the officers to discuss this in private." The nurse doesn't need to be told twice as she scurries from the room. "Please take all the time you need," the doctor says before slipping out of the room.

The three of us wait for the latch to catch before we go back to glaring at each other.

"Look, Nora, Nikki, I understand…" Dan tries to smooth things over.

"Fuck you, Harney," Nora snaps and I cringe.

That little outburst causes Dan's face to cloud. His hands shoot to his hips and he finally snaps, "No, Nora, fuck you. Why is it that you think you're the only one involved here? You seem to forget that you and Nikki getting shot at doesn't just effect you," he steps up to her and pokes a finger in her chest, "I've got your co-workers, your friends, Lt. Baird, Dr. Ophoven and your brothers out in the waiting room because of this shit. I want them just as bad you so back off detective," he sneers.

"Nora," I pull her over to me, rage burns in her beautiful green eyes and I need to figure out a way to calm her down. "Nora, please?"

"You two have worked, we have worked so hard to keep this unit together," Dan tries again, a little more calmly, "If it were Benny and Dom, would you send them out there to catch the guy that just shot at them? Would I.A.B. look at that as a sound decision if something happens?"

That causes her to falter for a brief second and then I watch as the fight in her deflates. Her hand finds mine and her thumb ghosts over my palm.

* * *

"Explain to me again, ladies, why I thought it was a good idea for you to come along?" Ron grouses from the back seat of Frankie. I catch his eyes in the vanity mirror of my visor and wink. "Beaumont," he growls.

I pucker my lips and make kissy noises at him.

He and Nora both crack up while I flip the visor up feeling a little bit more accomplished.

Sure the team going into get Brooks is fifteen minutes out and instead of being involved, Ron saved our collective asses and asked Dan if we could go with him to question the Seventh Circle Widows leader.

Ron's informant knows a guy that knows a girl that was willing to talk a little.

Thank God for my old partner.

If Nora and I had to go home after this morning…

The adrenalin rush wore off on the way to the hospital, the exhaustion set in shortly after, but it was laced with a severe case of tension that would have been exacerbated by sitting around our apartment.

I stretch my neck left and hear the pops and grinds.

A knot in the middle of my back loses a little tension and I sigh.

"Second house on the left, Nora," Ron steers my partner to a house in a middle class neighborhood of Chantilly Terrace.

She nods and looks around the street for a place to park. I spot an opening on our right two houses down from where we need to be and point it out to her. "There."

The car is placed in front of a canary yellow Ford Focus, causing Nora to snicker, "Nothing against Ford, but canary yellow?"

Ron grumps beside her after unfolding himself from the back seat, "Those types of colors should only be found on school buses and birds."

I shake my head and slam the passenger door to Frankie. "Siskel and Ebert, let's go."

"Why?" is all Nora asks as I step behind them and place a hand on one shoulder each to guide them towards the leader of the Widows, Daniel "Boo" MacPharlain.

"Don't know any car critics," I explain to duel groans.

"I'm so glad we aren't partners anymore," Ron pokes fun at me, "I think maybe I'll take Nora from you though. She's good people, knows her cars and I could use another decent detective."

"Over my dead body, Baird," I say smacking his shoulder as we climb the steps to a white brick home with faded blue shutters and a well-kept lawn. It looks too suburban to be the home of the leader of a gang. In fact, it looks too wholesome to be anything but a family home.

The three of us exchange glances and by unspoken agreement, Nora raises her hand to the solid oak door giving it three hard knocks with the knuckles on her right hand.

When Ron told us he had a name and a location, I wasn't really expecting this, something a little more towards the poor neighborhoods. Not something situated here in the heart of a traditionally middle class neighborhood. But here we are anyhow.

"Nora?" the person opening the door asks before I can even see who it is. I blink a few times to make sure I'm seeing Gabby Moreau looking the three of us over. "Fuck," she hisses a little quieter this time and swings the door open, ushering us in.

She crooks a finger and motions for us to follow her through a well put together home. We pass through a quiet but comfortable living room, formal dining room and a kitchen to the back of the house that opens up into a large den. A U-shaped cream leather sofa is the primary piece of furniture. A large flat screen TV is mounted on the wall next to a fireplace. A small group, three men and one other woman, sit on the couch, papers spread out on the long coffee table sitting in front of the couch.

"Bill," Gabby catches his attention and motions to us.

"I was expecting you guys sooner," Bill stands, comes around the couch and offers his hand in greeting to each of us.

Ron's eyebrow rises and Bill introduces everyone, "Detectives this is Tim, who you know, that's Danny," he points to a shiny, ball-headed black man who looks up from the papers he was studying to dip his chin, "and the other girl over there next to Danny is his sister, Lulu," her russet skin tone matches her brother's as does the smirk playing at the corners of their respective mouths. "Danny, Lu, Tim, this is Dets. Nora Delaney, Nikki Beaumont and…" Bill looks to Ron expectantly.

"Lieutenant Ron Baird of Vice," Ron offers smiling at the group.

None of them seem remotely shaken by our appearance in their home.

"You guys are slower than I thought," Danny speaks up first after the introductions, "Sit a minute." He motions to the couch.

The three of us exchange another set of looks before Nora takes point and leads us around to the other side of the couch.

"You want anything to drink and how's the head?" Tim asks, standing from his seat to head towards the kitchen. He shrugs, "News travels quick and the bandage, it's obvious."

"Sit," Bill says to the other balled headed white guy in the room. "I'll grab some…" He looks us over and says, "Coffee. Just made a fresh pot."

Gabby follows Tim and sits down on the couch. I'm sandwiched between Nora and Ron with Danny and his sister to our left and Gabby and Tim to our right.

"We heard about the shooting over at White's today. I haven't said anything to Cas, she'll freak," Gabby starts the conversation and I really can't help feel like my world got flipped ass over tea kettle.

Maybe the shooting this morning messed with us more than I want to admit. Maybe we should go back and check ourselves in.

"How was Jax this morning?" Lulu asks us and I cock my head to the side.

Jax?

What's a Jax?

"Ah, who?" Ron asks as about intelligently as he can muster.

"Jackson," Lulu says for clarification.

And as if this day could get just a little bit weirder, Ron's phone starts up and Tim gives him a look and asks, "Is that The Mod Squad theme?"

Ron grumbles a 'yes' and explains, "Work," before snatching the phone from his belt and answering, "Baird." His lips purse as whoever he's talking to speaks and he nods. "Ah, uh-huh, kid's name wouldn't be Jackson, would it?...fuckin' magic…yeah…yeah, we'll be in shortly, keep him in the box."

The phone gets turned off and he looks back over to Lulu when he clips it back to his belt. "Jackson's sitting in an interrogation room waiting on us to get back to the station."

A relieved look passes over Danny's and Lulu's face, but before anyone has any time to ask questions, Bill comes back from the kitchen carrying a tray with cups, creamer, sugar and a carafe. He pours four cups of coffee and hands three off to me, Nora and Ron. The other he keeps for himself and drinks it black.

I'm in the Twilight Zone.

That's all I have.

"So, what questions did you have?" Gabby asks pouring herself a cup, keeping it black, she settles back against the couch and sips her drink.

"Apparently, we don't have any," Ron shrugs, "Jackson DeWitt confessed this morning to killing Chad Stohs and Jennifer Kirkpatrick."

"Ron?" Nora asks for both of us because I can't find my voice to save my life. 'Cause if that's the case, then our cases are closed. Brooks will or should be in custody already. The perps from the robbery are dead and the murderer of the perps is in custody.

I think I need to start today over again.

Gabby huffs, "Man you guys really are slow." She rolls her eyes and sets the empty coffee cup on the tray. She looks around to her group and then says, "Let's make this simple, Jax stepped out of line and he's doing the right thing. We would have handled Chad and Jen ourselves, but…we did what we thought was right. Jax shouldn't have retaliated for Chad and Jen stepping out on us."

"So," I finally find my voice and want perfect clarification, "This Jax killed Stohs and Kirkpatrick because…"

"'Cause C. and Jen shouldn't have done what they did, I'm not even sure why they robbed that bank. When we found out, no one had time to do anything our way," Danny answers, "Jax took matters in to his own hands and now he has to pay the piper, boo."

My mouth falls open to reply to Danny when the back sliding door is shoved open.

Brooks barrels in, a Heckler and Koch forty-five USP in his hands.

* * *

"Don't," Darren Brooks, who's obviously not in custody, looks to me and the other two who's already got their hands on their side arms. "Don't move another inch." We raise our hands in compliance.

Accurately, describing the feeling associated with having a gun pointed at you is troublesome most days…

But after this morning and the weird twists this day is taking, I can honestly say that I'm mostly just annoyed.

Really, goddamn fucking annoyed.

"You're a damn idiot," Danny snaps straightening up, but not standing. "You're a fucking idiot who's gonna get killed if you don't put that shitting thing away."

The gun rattles in Brooks hands.

I have to wonder what pushed him so far as to bust in on a rival gang member's home.

"Idiot?" Darren seethes, "You been comin' up on me, messin' with my money, fuckin' with my crew; what you think I was just gonna let that shit go? Nigger you're dumber than that ho sittin' next to you!"

Nora's finger grazes my thigh and I quickly cut my eyes to her and then back to Brooks.

I hope she's got an idea.

I'm out of them.

How do we get ourselves into these types of messes?

It's Gabby's sigh that draws the room's attention. Her eyes roll as her hands go up in the air.

"Gab," Bill tries to stop her movement, but she shrugs him off and stands.

"Sit your dumb ass down bitch!" Brooks yells.

Gabby ignores him. She spins around; hands rose to her shoulders until he sees there's no way in the tank top and skinny jeans she's wearing that she can be hiding a weapon.

She squares her shoulders. As if the gun wasn't even now pointed at her chest, she stands in front of him. Her profile shows the set jaw, straight back and the muzzle of the firearm pressed over her chest.

Brooks licks his lips. His eyes skirt to Danny then back to Gabby.

"What's wrong D.? Too much of a fucking pussy to pull the fucking trigger?" she taunts him.

"Gabby!" Tim tries this time.

"Shut up, Tim, I'm not talking to you. You'd pull the fucking trigger and get this shit over with," she says this with her eyes locked on Brooks. "Fuckin' no good, wannabe gangsta, pussy actin' like he gotta set." She leans forward causing the gun to press into her breast bone. "Do it."

It's almost comical. Brooks has a good foot and seventy pounds on her.

She's still far more intimidating.

She's practically vibrating now and Brooks is backing down. He scooted back giving himself a little space from Gabby.

Her head cocks to the side at his small retreat. "Ya know, I knew a guy like you once. Talked a nice game." Her head tilts to the other side and she sneers. "Operative word is 'knew.' His swagger fell flat when he stepped up lookin' to catch a case." She reaches out and pokes him in the chest. "What about you, _dog_, you got teeth to back up that bark?"

Nora's nails dig into my thighs. My right hand's got a death grip on the hilt of my gun. The scenarios of how horrible this could all end flash in microseconds across my mind's eye.

All of them end with bodies being carted out in bags.

None of the scenarios prepare me for Gabby making the first move. She lunges forward and then all hell breaks loose.

Darren's arm is pushed up at the same time his gun goes off.

I register the shouting.

There's lots of shouting

I blink and orient myself – out of my seat with my knee planted between Brooks' shoulder blades. Ron is cuffing the piece of shit.

Nora?

I look around and see her kneeling in front of Gabby on the floor.

The evil, crazy pixie's head's tilted back. Blood dribbles from between her pinched fingers.

Ron snaps his fingers in front of my face and says, "I've got a unit on the way. You okay?"

I nod.

Crawling over to Nora, I assess the damage.

It's Gabby's nose.

Oh, sweet Jesus, it's just her nose.

Crazier still is that she's laughing and looking at Brooks. "Fuckin' pussy," she spits, her blood and mucus flying towards the man lying on the floor. It lands on his cheek and he starts sputtering.

"Shut the fuck up," Ron snaps, sending a sharp kick to Darren's rib cage.

"Are you fucking insane!"

"What the hell's wrong with you!"

"I'm gonna kill you myself!"

All of that is said at once. The three of us kneeling on the floor cast a look to Bill, Tim, Danny and Lulu.

Smiles grace all four faces and Gabby starts laughing harder. Around the tissue, her nasally response sounds ridiculous, "I keep on forgetting…"

The five of them finish in unison, "No one wins with a head-butt."


End file.
